


To Tell You The Truth

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: (if you squint), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist Reader, But I'm an indulgent fuck so it's okay, Canon-Typical Violence, Catholics H8 Me, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Extreme Duress, F/M, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending, Healing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Just get it all in there, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Outer Space, Past Abuse, Praise Kink, Reader is a prospector, Religious Terms used improperly, Remember, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Survival, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Very Flowery Terminology, Worldbuilding, adoration, and fanfictions are not research, big dick energy, no man's penis will heal you okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Hello everyone, and welcome! I present a new indulgence, as I am a simple man subject to the whim of my hyperfixations. I hope that you all will enjoy this tale, though I warn it will be a tad less carefree. Darker subject matter will be tread in this series. But! My indulgences will shine through regardless, and my trigger warnings will be at the beginning of each installment.Also! To assuage any fears: there will be no rape in this story. The tag is there because it occurred in the past and will be referenced on occasion.Our story begins in the Green, after a certain meeting that culminates in an explosive Truxican standoff...[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect)/Reader
Comments: 46
Kudos: 157





	1. Timid

**Author's Note:**

> !TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!

You ran.

The thrower knocked against your leg as you fled, almost tripping you numerous times. You couldn't bring yourself to fix it, though.

You  _ didn't _ stop, even when your ribs started to ache and your vision went patchy.  _ The pod is just in the next clearing _ , you kept telling yourself,  _ the next clearing for certain _ . Once you were inside it, you could…

It had no lock. Damon hadn't deemed it necessary. Maybe...maybe that other man just wouldn't find you. The one that Damon had shot and tried to thieve everything from.  _ How _ could he have believed that his greed would go unchecked?! Those two men had  _ clearly _ been slaving in the Bakhroma Green for ages. Months at a bare minimum. Now one of them was  _ dead _ , and the other had been wounded by Damon before your oh-so- _ illustrious _ companion had succumbed to the injuries inflicted by that railgun. 

You had been involved in dig disputes before, of course, but you were hard-pressed to think of a time where one had been settled with such... _ messy _ finality. 

You entered the pod with a gasp of relief, jerking your helmet off to breathe the comfortingly stale air. You dropped the thrower by the door, unable to bring yourself to even  _ think _ about using it. 

Damon was dead. 

You pressed your hands to your temples and sank to the floor. The man who had bullied, browbeat and  _ press-ganged _ you into this remote locale, was  _ dead _ . And you…

You had no idea how to urge this pod back up past the thick canopy. You were a digger. Digging was what you were good at. It was what you  _ knew _ . You were  _ not _ a pilot.

Despair took hold then, as you realized you were truly trapped. Precious seconds ticked by while you laid there on the floor, a curled-up ball of miserable floater. There were three cycles left before there would be no escape, before the freighter slingback would be entirely inaccessible.

You dragged yourself out of your funk eventually, doing your best to wipe your face clean of all your tears. You could figure this out. All Damon had been good for was flying, right? You would inventory the supplies and see how many days you could eke out. Maybe you could reach someone on the long range. 

...

The sorting and cataloging work kept you busy. Which was good. You liked busy. Busy limited headspace. Busy kept people alive on digs. 

It  _ was _ a little warm inside the pod once the sunlight started beating down on it. You wiped your sweat off with your forearm for the millionth time, flipping through your notes. If you were cautious about certain resources and supplements, you might be able to last two months down on the Green moon. But that was only if your filters continued to hold recharges. Uncharitably, you wished you had taken Damon's before you bolted. 

There was nothing for it. You would just have to make it back to the freighter in time. Two stands of miserable living would do you no good if you were still on this moon. Judging from the thickness of the pollen in the air, the plant life would be noxious. You wouldn't survive without your filters.

You leafed through the radio manual, flipping the power switch and grimacing at the burst of static that greeted your ears through the Arcsoko long range headset. "To anyone listening, this is Dasha Landcraft Rental, parcel-class, pod number-" you paused, fumbling through to the back of the manual for the number scrawled there by the company. "Number...eight-eight-three-nine-seven-five dash-zero-zero--" you stopped to inhale, "-two-seven-four-two. We have landed off course. I repeat, we are off target in the Green. Pilot lost." Your voice started to shake. "P-Pilot lost. If a-anyone is within range, please respond."

You flipped the switch on the signal amp and then pushed the looper, setting the message to repeat broadcasting for an hour. It would be a varying amount of expenditure on your chit for every additional hour you wanted to keep your transmission on the air, and you didn't exactly  _ have _ money to throw around, so all you could hope was that someone would hear your distress message within the first free hour. 

You kept the headset on, rocking back and forth in your chair as the minutes ticked down. A few times there were bursts of static that sounded like someone was about to come on air, but they peaked as fast as they arrived. 

Hope faded the longer you sat there, sorting and stacking the brightly-colored Calori-pouches of Pastors Henry slurry. You staunchly ignored the way your lower lip was quivering. Damon hated it when you cried.

Within the last few precious minutes of your free broadcast, a noise outside sent your heart into your throat. You yanked off the headphones, scrambling for the nav console. The wall of bulky, jutting screens was the first thing you could seriously consider cover, but it was only once you'd tucked yourself beneath it that you remembered you had left the thrower by the door. 

You started forward to grab it, but ended up just lowering your body closer to the floor as the noises advanced,  _ footsteps _ you realized. So he  _ had _ found you. He would certainly kill you if only for what your  _ partner _ had done. It had been careless of you to start your broadcast so soon after returning to the pod. You had essentially beamed out a homing signal to your  _ exact _ location. 

_ For an hour _ .

This was it. Cowering in a rented pod, weapon feet away, clutching an itemized list of all the things to eat and drink. A fitting end, for a timid  _ dust-scratcher _ like yourself.

_ I will  _ **_not_ ** _ cry or beg _ , you told yourself sternly. It would do no good here. It was better to face your demise with some shred of dignity, and Damon had just gotten more angry when you cried. 

The hatch hissed loudly and you somehow made yourself even smaller while that man, the talkative one, lurched up into the pod. He stumbled, fighting with the latches on his helmet for a good ten seconds before finally managing to get the thing off, thus affording you a clear view at his face.

He didn't look particularly cruel, or Brism-busted like Damon had. Mainly, he just looked tired and dirty. He had a head of shaggy brown hair, olive skin and deep-set brown eyes. His nose was hawklike, prominent even alongside that heavy brow and the square jut of his scruffy jaw. When he turned his head, you spotted a curious chunk of blond hair that grew determinedly out at a different angle from the right side of his hairline,  _ Mallen streak _ , your brain supplied oh-so-helpfully. An old scar, silver with age, meandered along his left cheekbone, and a halfway-maintained mustache shielded his upper lip.

His eyes roamed the pod curiously for a moment, taking in all the notes you had tacked to the walls in your inventory sweep. He  _ absolutely _ noticed the thrower abandoned by the door. 

"This is a vexsome position that your friend Damon has put you into, I'm afraid." He drawled, his pistol loose at his side while he slowly rotated. "I will not apologize for my hand in his death, as he wounded myself, razed my associate and was planning to abscond with several stands worth of  _ my _ hard work. His greed outplayed his hand."

Dark eyes landed on you, curled up against the wall beneath the console screens, and the smile that bloomed under his mustache was decidedly predatory. 

"I'm...I have food." You began to bargain shakily. 

"You certainly  _ do _ , don't you?" He crooned in a patronizing tone, the thrower pistol humming as he primed it. 

"I'm a good digger. Th-That's the only reason Damon dragged me here." You cringed when he took a step towards you. "P-Please, I didn't-"

"I have no doubt that  _ whatever _ it was, you surely didn't. You could have picked me off easily out there had you wanted to, plenty of range on that thrower. What is a gentle soul like you doing with a character that had such a predisposition for marauderous pilferin', I wonder?" The man mused, his expression cheery to an  _ unsettling _ degree. The grip he had on the pistol didn't waver an inch.

"He promised I-I would be able to finally quit with the points this planet would make." Why bother lying? This man would just kill you anyway. "B-But the pod, it...something happened during the landing. A malfunction, I'm not sure."

" _ Ah _ , so your friend Damon was the Ahab of this vessel as well. No surprise there, that steadfast moral compass of his must have seen you two just  _ flawlessly _ across the vacuous expanse." 

Your lower lip began to quiver again and you dug around in your suit pockets for the lone gem that you had uncovered on your trek earlier. "I don't...I don't have anything to offer aside from the supplies and this. But...p-please, I just…" 

Your sketchbook tumbled out of your pocket as you removed the gem. The barrel of his gun grazed the side of your head in obvious response to the action and you froze in terror. "You keep those hands where I can see them, gentle soul. I am not in a gaming mood at the mo…" His words trailed off when he caught sight of the massive pearl cradled in your palms. "Well  _ well _ , it seems you've got a bit of bargaining power yet." 

"I don't need much food, I p-promise." You had told yourself you wouldn't beg, but this seemed...very close to begging. "J-Just water and a pilot." You extended the aurelac, knowing full well that you were surrendering your ability to go home. That miserable rock would have paid for the lease on the pod  _ and _ passage back to the Pug at the bare minimum. Which you had pointed out to Damon, but he insisted on trekking further. You found yourself agreeing wholeheartedly with this other man's earlier observation,  _ his greed outplayed his hand _ .

"I am not overly inclined to rid this world of you, gentle soul. If I am reading the situation correct, you are not here because you wish to be." The man said after several breathless moments. He didn't seem concerned about taking the gem from you at the moment. "However, we  _ are _ at a bit of a stalemate when it comes to locomotion." 

His gun dropped from the side of your head and you flinched again when he stretched out his hand towards you. "H-Here, here! Just p-please, don't-" You shoved the rock against his fingers, your eyes shut tight with anticipation. Why couldn't he just shoot you and get it over with?!

"I'm offering you a hand up, gentle soul. Squirrel away your bargaining chip for the time being." The man said, gently easing the gem aside. "I am not an unreasonable man. Let's get you up off that floor and we shall discuss terms as civilized folk do." 

"You...you're not going to kill me?" You asked weakly, daring to open your eyes.

"At this juncture? No." The man tilted his head. "Are you planning on doin' anything nefarious that may  _ encourage _ my own expedient shuffle off of my mortal coil?"

You had to take a minute just to try and figure out what he'd actually said. It had been ages since you'd interacted with anyone aside from Damon, and your late 'partner' hadn't had the most expansive vocabulary. "I've never killed anyone before." You replied, your voice a whisper.

"A prudent answer, to be certain, for one never knows what the tides of fate have in store for them." He pondered for a breath, his eyes almost impossibly dark. "I'll take your word all the same, face value. You seem an honest sort, gentle soul. Makes me inclined to wonder how you got tangled up in this sorry soirée, though." His boot bumped against your sketchbook and he toed it a little closer to you, obligingly keeping his distance.

"That's not...it's not important right now." You snatched the book up and crammed it back into your pocket. Then, you floundered into one of the flight chairs, sitting sideways so you were able to maintain the barest pretense of eye contact. You clasped your trembling hands in front of you, trying to remember to keep them where he could see them.

"The terms will be as follows: we work together to get this craft airworthy once again. By my late partner's calculations, Kevva rest his soul, we've only got a few turns of twenty-four left until we're well and truly cut adrift on this forsaken Nessus." The way that he was using the term 'we' had your chest strangely tight. "I am loathe to be restricted here for the rest of my days, especially with a royal's ransom stashed in my trophy case. I doubt you wish to suffer that same perdition." 

He leaned forward and you shifted back on reflex, quickly dropping your gaze from the scar on his cheek to the floor. "I understand." You said softly. "What do you want me to do? I'm not...I don't know anything about the nav systems or engines or-"

"Gentle soul, how long had you wandered this world with that disreputable thief?" 

To your horror, you couldn't actually  _ remember _ how long it had been. It was a haze of silent travel, punctuated by violent outbursts as you tried to make yourself seem even smaller than you already were-

"I did not mean to wound you, gentle soul. I offer my most sincere reparations." He apologized quietly.

"What?"

He gestured with his hand, a little slower now. "You are weepin'."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." You fumbled to wipe your face off on your sleeve. "I'm alright, I'm fine." You assured him with a watery smile.

He studied you for what felt like a lifetime, those brown eyes boring into your own. "I am Ezra, gentle soul. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

_ Ezra _ . That's right, he had introduced himself as such to Damon before everything had gone so incredibly wrong. "I'm sorry about what happened to your friend." You said thickly. "I didn't...I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

He waved off your words, scoffing a bit. "Number Two was a utility, not a friend. I am none too aggrieved by his loss, and I implore you not to trouble yourself with such dour ruminations on his behalf." Ezra stretched, then swiveled his head around. "What does our supply situation look like? I can see your scrawlings, naturally, but I would prefer it from the merchant's mouth."

You leafed through your notebook pages. "If we're careful, we should have enough to last one month." Split between the two of you rations were a bit harder to calculate, so you went with the safe route of halving the time evenly. "I don't know your appetite. Damon would go days without food sometimes, because of the sleep meds."

"I am ravenous at any and all opportunities, I must confess." Ezra admitted. "Been surviving off bits bars for the last four stands. Calori-paste is my damn marrow at this point in time."

"W-We still have some powdered things, tea, if...I mean can I offer you...um, some coffee?" You warily turned your back to him and started rummaging in one of the many side compartments, pulling out a tiny sealed bag of dehydrated coffee mix.

"I would be…" He paused, sounding like he was fighting for breath. It was so dramatic that you actually  _ looked _ at him, a touch alarmed. "I would be forever in your debt if you would grace me with so much as a watered-down  _ teaspoon _ of that heavenly beverage." He settled on one of the side benches, his pistol holstered for the time being. "We will not need rations to last the month, gentle soul, so our best option in the event of calamitous mechanical difficulties may be to take any excess off to the Saders to trade for goods."

"Saders?"

"They are a group of people that inhabit the Green. Religious settlers,  _ tedious _ scavengers."

Your brow furrowed. You were no religious expert. "Like Kevvaites?" You tried.

"No no, not so much with the monotheism. They believe in the Tides of the universe. The Currents, a certain...ebb and flow of life." Ezra waved a hand to illustrate. "All very poetic,  _ giveth and taketh _ kinda' sort. Not bad folk to deal with, all things considered, but  _ voraciously _ against conventional arms and armaments."

You wracked your brain for any other useful items you may have stowed away from Damon, lest he pawn them to pay for his drugs of choice. After you set the hydro to churn the precious dust into coffee, you knelt and shuffled your small personal storage compartment open. "I don't have a lot to offer, I'm afraid." You murmured, tugging out a few duct tape sealed bags. "Almost all the basic hygiene items, my emergency filters...anything he could get his hands on, really. He would just trade it for more drops or Brism." You continued apologetically. 

"That man was a junkie." Ezra said bluntly. "Now, I have my own vices and I am not above reproach, but I always assured that my consumption was never at the cost of someone else's comfort." 

Your throat felt tight and you ducked your head down, avoiding eye contact. "I...I'm sorry." 

"Whyever for, gentle soul?" He asked curiously. 

"I-I shouldn't have-" You had no idea what you were apologizing  _ for _ , your words dying in your throat. After so much time with Damon, you did it automatically. The hydro beeped, offering you the opportunity to bolt. Which you took  _ immediately _ . "Coffee!" You announced brightly, the flimsy cardboard container that it dispensed into almost scorching your hand. You passed it off to him, warning, "Be careful, it's-" 

Ezra slugged half the scalding contents in one go, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively. 

"-h-hot." You finished weakly.

"Kevva above, it  _ sure _ is." He grunted, shuddering. "God  _ damn _ , I have missed that acrid nightmare of flavor burnin' my esophagus like Satan himself. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder." He pawed idly at his wounded arm after a moment, grimacing. "I don't suppose that Damon kept any of the usual med supplies? A field kit, maybe?" The older man queried hopefully.

You hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip. "He...didn't." You answered carefully.

Ezra looked momentarily distraught before he seemed to catch himself, his expression smoothing into something closer to weary resignation. "Well, can't say I'm surprised. They're worth good currency in a trade. Bodes poorly for the survival of my arm, however." He said glibly, the wince that followed contrasting dramatically with his unphased tone.

"Y...Your-?"

"Once the dust gets in, it don't take too long for the fester to permeate." Ezra explained. The wound on his arm oozed a sickly, yellowish fluid down the sleeve of his exosuit when he pressed his hand over it. "It wasn't originally just myself and Number Two, you understand. We had a full crawling party before the muti--" He jerked to a stop, shooting you a wary glance. "Now, gentle soul, I don't want you thinkin' that you have anythin' to fear from me. The mutiny was...a misunderstanding. You saw today what depths desperate men stoop to over a bit of aurelac."

You nodded, your throat gone dry. 

"There were... _ concerns _ voiced about equal shares, it was a Kevva-forsaken mess. I don't know how many times I've told folk to draw up their union contracts  _ before _ they get boots on the ground. Nobody listens, though. It's always ' _ mutiny once we're planetside _ ' this and ' _ we can take everything _ ' that." He griped. "Words and metal flew and, regrettably, myself and a few others were marooned on this damnable moon." Ezra drew his hand away from his arm, that yellowed fluid clinging to his fingers in thick, pitchy strands, "We quickly found that these climes are  _ fiendishly _ inhospitable to floaters in damaged suits."

Your lip felt like it was about to drop off your face from how hard you were worrying it. "I...D-Do you promise not to hurt me?" You finally asked.

Ezra gave you a look of confusion, brown eyes narrowing slightly. "Gentle soul, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that-"

"Just-! Just say yes or no." 

"Yes,  _ dammit _ , but I fail to see what that's got to-"

"I h-have a kit. A f-field kit." You stammered out. His eyebrows drew together in a thunderous frown and you saw his jaw working. "Wait! Wait, just let me f-f-finish." You extended your hands in a placative gesture, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. "I...trade. I'll trade you. Nobody does anything for free, right? I'll help you, and in exchange, I want you to promise me you won't hurt me."

"What would you do if I _did_ hurt you, gentle soul?" Ezra inquired softly. Your breath hitched. "Indeed, what would you be _able_ to do? Especially now that I'm _aware_ you've got a kit hidden somewhere." The man got to his feet and you _immediately_ flinched. "Your powers of persuasion need some...refinin', but I am not immune to civility. Gentle soul, if you give me that kit not _only_ am I willin' to work with you to get us off this moon, I'll throw a chunk of my haul your way as a show of good faith." He offered, dark eyes watching you closely. " _And_ , I will give you my word as an individual with the slightest, _infantessible_ _modicum_ of moral standing, that I won't lay a finger on you fueled by dubious or malicious intent." 

You stared up at him, your mind entirely blank from panic. His strange words certainly weren't helping your comprehension. "I..." No, no, this was wrong. He was putting  _ far _ too much up for his end of the bargain! He must be planning something, some sort of trick.

Ezra cocked his head. "You still with me, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously. "Don't tell me you're strokin' out, it'd be a shame to lose such pleasant company."

Your laugh was a jagged hiccup in your chest. Ezra huffed out a breath after a moment, obviously uncomfortable. He probably thought you had gone moony,  _ entirely _ lunar. "I'm...I'm sorry, I...that's a good, um, deal, b-but I can't accept it." You struggled to get your words out. "Y-You…that is, I don't...I don't want…"  _ to be like Damon _ . 

"Perhaps your persuasion isn't nearly as uncalibrated as I originally surmised. Very well, gentle soul. How much is my dominant arm worth to  _ you? _ " Ezra queried dryly, misunderstanding your hesitation. "Because to  _ me _ , as a workin' man, it's worth its weight in aurelac sixteen times over." 

You hadn't thought of it like that. You felt a bit foolish now. "Oh.  _ Oh _ , I'm sorry. I...I'm sorry." 

"Kevva above, you  _ are _ a tender thing. I don't mean to be so grim, but that's the harsh reality that I've been livin' with since I found myself marooned. It's a miracle I've managed this long with the meager supplies allotted to us." He said, sounding rueful. "I mourn my stomach every morning as I eat those crunchy  _ bastard _ bits bars and I pray for my sufferin' to end."

You didn't mean to snort, but his colorful terminology caught you off-guard. His smile was less predatory this time, as if he hadn't expected your mirth. You knelt, burrowing even deeper into your compartment until you hit the false bottom. There, underneath several sheets of whitewashed cardboard, resided your precious field kit. You had traded the entirety of your meager share from an equally-meager haul for it stands ago, once you realized how deeply entrenched Damon was in his addiction. You had always clung to the faint hope (albeit perhaps in vain) that you might be able to escape from Damon and, if you struck out on your own, you knew you would at the very  _ least _ need a good field kit as a failsafe for emergencies.

You hesitated before you tugged the box free, your fingers stroking the smooth plastic. You felt silly for the melancholic sensation that rose in your chest, it was  _ just _ a field kit. You could always get another one. But it had seemed like so much more than a porta-surge. Until today, it had represented your dreams of getting out from beneath Damon's thumb. 

"Not to-" You had been so lost in thought that the unexpected sound of his voice caught you by surprise. You bolted to your feet in a rush and the top of your head met the bottom of his jaw with a bone-jarring impact. Your vision faded momentarily from the force of the blow, black dots exploding and fading out. 

The older man grunted, staggering back a step. He proceeded to sit down heavily on one of the bench seats as you held your aching head in pain. The porta-surgery box laid abandoned on the floor. You could only  _ imagine _ what level of punishment you were in for now. 

"Martyr's  _ malfeasance _ , gentle soul, if you try to ring my bell like that again you may do me in." He groaned hoarsely, working his jaw and tonguing the inside of his cheek. "What the  _ fuck _ is your cranium comprised of?"

You didn't answer, sniffling a little bit and blinking back your tears as you scooped the field kit off the ground. You held the box out to him, your eyes focused on your boots while you struggled to keep your hiccups to a minimum; Damon  _ hated _ when you would cry.

You cringed when a gloved hand rested gently on the top of your head, clumsy fingers parting your hair. What was he…? "You are goin' to have a fine bruise, gentle soul. Mercifully you didn't break skin. Guess my jawline isn't as sharp as I've been claimin'." 

Was he...was he  _ joking _ with you? You dared to glance up at him and you were startled by how concerned he looked.  _ Oh, I'm still holding the kit _ . You gracelessly pushed the field kit against his stomach, trying to use it to give yourself some breathing room. 

Ezra seemed to get the hint and he shifted a step back, taking the kit as he went. " _ Kevva _ , this is one of the portable surgicals. Sequestering it was the intelligent choice, gentle soul." He muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself. "I am loathe to willfully use your resources, so I shall do my best to be prudent." You could feel him looking at you again. "This is all that you have, isn't it?" He asked abruptly. "The kit, those few possessions you've already dug out of that compartment."

You just cleared your throat and avoided his searching gaze with studious intent. "You're wasting time." You whispered.

"True enough." Ezra agreed. He flopped back down on the bench and rummaged around in the box, tugging loose the tiny orange sepsis kit and the patch gun with a grimace. "Hello, old friend." He then raised his voice to address you once more, "I will be makin' a copious amount of noise presently, gentle soul."

You nodded jerkily, covering your ears and turning your head away.


	2. Detestable Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous sexual and/or physical abuse. Stay safe!]

"Well," Ezra said some time later, his voice still a little raspy from performing his own interventions, "Damon may not have been overly  _ intelligent _ , but the man was certainly resourceful." He tilted out from beneath the navigation console, carefully stripping free another lump of tape from the mess of wires. "He must have pawned off nearly every non-essential object under there. And a few that, regrettably, are." The older man squinted up at you, no doubt taking in the hopeless expression you were sure was on your face.

"So I'm stuck here." You breathed.

"Slow down a beat, gentle soul. We're not played out just yet. The Saders may have the bits or bobs we need. Or…" he trailed off, those dark eyes fixed contemplatively on a point above your shoulder. "Damon mentioned the Queen's Lair and those Karolclan mercs. I assume you are already aware of-" He stopped when you shook your head, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Damon talking about it with you was the first time I heard his plan." You confessed. "I had no idea that was why we were here, I just...I mean he told me we were digging of course, b-but I didn't realize it would be...like that." You finished awkwardly. 

"And why would you? Better to keep you in the dark, I suspect. Easier to maintain his grip if you don't know there's a secure payout." Ezra replied sourly. "It's bad business if Karolclan is involved. Them or those Krebine  _ degenerates _ . No sane man would accept that job."

"Before you got him talking, I didn't even know that he used to have a family crew." You continued, not sure why you were still rattling on. Nerves, probably. "He never mentioned them."

"A man's sins can weigh heavy on him. I imagine he figured there was no harm in tellin' me a few of 'em, since he assumed he would be comin' out on top in our engagement." Ezra said dismissively, rolling the tape into a tight little ball. "That  _ is _ interestin' though, that he would keep you so far in the black. No trust lost between partners." He cocked his head, fixing you with that thoughtful stare. "Though...I am beginning to suspect ' _ partner _ ' is an incorrect moniker." He muttered, half to himself. 

The man gritted his teeth after a moment, wrapping a hand around his elbow and cradling his injured arm to his chest. The thrower wound on his bicep, though treated and sealed off, had continued to slowly ooze yellow fluid around the 'cream' foam. Through the tear in his thermal layer, you could see that the skin around the sealant had gone a sickly pink. 

"It would seem," Ezra began, sounding somewhat strained, "that I did not close the wound in time. I am afraid I may have to press our objective to trade with the Saders a little more insistently." He appeared to be making a concerted effort to keep his voice steady. "I apologize, gentle soul."

You had already started to empty the contents of your cumbersome exploration pack out, digging through the tattered pouches for your mending kit. "I'll patch your suit." Ezra gave you a blank look and you shook your kit at him impatiently. "We need to plug the hole in your exosuit. Any sort of loss of integrity is bad, especially if we have to tether. I can fix the rip."

He worked his jaw momentarily, the motion seeming like a bit of a tick. Hopefully it wasn't a leftover from when he had gotten  _ acquainted _ with your head. "How long will that take?"

"Ten minutes, if that. I'll make it quick." You tapped the bulky chronometer on your wrist. 

After he nodded, you tugged gingerly at the sleeve of his half-peeled exosuit where it hung limp around his waist, donning your gloves before you attempted to wipe the sticky fluid off the thick fabric. Then, you flipped the sleeve inside out as best as you could, noting with a touch of dismay just how  _ much _ pollen was already embedded in the seams. 

Undoing your patch pack, you quickly measured and snipped out a rectangular piece from the double-sided patch material. Your handheld stitcher buzzed wearily at the tough outer layer of his suit, semi-straight lines of faded khaki thread punching their way through to secure the lurid orange patch. 

"Look at you." Ezra murmured, his voice drawing you out of your focused work. "This is your comfort zone, isn't it?"

You ducked your head down to avoid his gaze, smoothing the rubber sealant backing over the inside of the stitching. "Done." You said quietly. 

He inserted his wounded arm back into the sleeve, dragging his fingers across the freshly-patched hole. "I daresay it's better than new, gentle soul! Much obliged for that, though I know it's not just for my benefit." The older man praised, making you flush. Damon had never thanked you. "With that, I suggest we gather your accoutrements and be on our way."

…

Ezra seemed to be in a worse state than he had originally let on. It might have just been the added stress of movement and drawing filtered air, but his staggering was starting to reach a concerning level. At this rate, he would trip over the tether line.

Your gaze trailed down to the inside of your helmet, resting on the gasket barely within your field of view. There was the lone chiclet of Brism gum that you had traded for so many stands ago, taped to the side of the lining. You lazily brought your eyes up again, realizing that Ezra had halted once more. If you took the stimulant-loaded gum, you might be able to…

To what? Overpower him? Outrun him? It wouldn't do you any good  _ now _ , he was the one who knew where you were going. Better to continue to save the Brism for a real emergency. He had given his word, what little that counted for, and thus far, he hadn't proved himself to be a threat.

_ To anyone besides Damon, anyway _ . You recalled how Ezra's shoulders had slumped in defeat when Damon had pressed the pistol to his helmet and forced him to open his trophy case. Knowing how long he must have been here, how difficult it must have been to scrape together what he  _ had _ found...

You cleared your throat. "Are you-"

"Gentle soul, for both of our sakes--it is best if you do not ask that question." He interrupted, the labored breathing in his helmet com threatening to deafen you. "I am doing my--damnedest not to dwell upon--the uncertainty of my current bodily quandary."

"How do you  _ still _ manage to use so many words, even when it sounds like your saturation is garbage and you're pulling your air through a filter of mud?" You asked incredulously.

"I am a loquacious  _ fool _ , gentle soul." He paused to wheeze, then continued on as if to prove his point, "My lighthearted inclination toward palavering has turned into a shortcoming of most grievous impact, given our circumstances." He gave you a curious glance. "I did not anticipate your scathin' query."

You gulped, realizing belatedly how sharp your words had been. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"Calm yourself, gentle soul. I did not mean to imply that it was unwelcome." Ezra graced you with a quick, pained grin. "It has been a short eternity since I've had anyone to speak to, you must understand. My extensive vernacular has been languishin' in the rushes." He straightened back up, but continued to cradle his injured arm to his chest. "It's refreshing."

"What about your partner?"

Ezra shook his head at you. "Number Two was mute. Silent as the grave. Whizz at numbers though, could calculate the depth and breadth of just about anythin' if you had parchment to spare."

You hummed in understanding, his overly-wordy terminology suddenly making much more sense. He was used to filling in the silence. Ezra grunted, rubbing a tentative circle around the patch on his suit. "Should...should we put your arm in a sling?" You queried nervously.

"I am afraid it is a mite too late for that, gentle soul." He flexed the fingers on his right hand, swearing softly. " _ Martyr's malfeasance _ , that is seizin'. Can barely feel anything south of my elbow. You'd think that would be a blessing." He groused. "Whole thing tingles like a stranger's touch." Ezra looked up and then abruptly halted. "Ah, now  _ here _ we have some promise." He said, sounding relieved. 

You followed his line of vision and froze when you spotted a black-clad figure in the distance, watching the two of you. 

"Don't move fast. We don't want to spook 'em." Ezra murmured, slowly raising his good arm to hail the individual. They crouched slightly, cautious. You could relate to that. Ezra waved at them, gloved fingers spread wide as if to display that his hand was empty.

The person darted off back into the underbrush after several tense seconds and you heaved out a sigh of relief. It was short-lived however, as Ezra started lumbering in the direction they had gone. "Where are you-"

"As Eurydice attempted to follow her beloved Orpheus out of the Stygian Abyss, so too we must follow our potential benefactor and have faith." Ezra looked back at you, smiling thinly. "Come, gentle soul. Departing the Green is naught but one more Herculean trial for us to conquer."

He held out his hand to you as if you were a small child. You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled, letting his arm drop once more. 

"I meant no disrespect. I assumed you needed assurance. You looked ready to take flight like a startled bird."

"I'm  _ fine _ ." You replied stiffly, "I just have the brains to not immediately trust strange people I stumble across in the Bakhroma Green." 

"I resemble that remark, gentle soul." Ezra pointed out quietly. "Yet here you are, tethered up. What does that say about your good sense and sensibilities, I wonder?"

"I'm  _ very _ adept at ignoring warning signs when it suits me." You snapped before you could think better of it.

Ezra's harsh bark of laughter startled you, his smile weirdly genuine when he aimed it at you this time. "I must say, your changeable explosions of acrid ferocity are keepin' me on my toes!" He exclaimed. If you didn't know any better, you would say he sounded  _ delighted _ . "You are wonderfully fiery when you forget to be timid, gentle soul."

You bit your lip nervously, uncertain if you ought to display concern over how  _ amused _ he seemed to be. 

The large dome of his helmet bumped against yours. "You have gone pensive again, like our dear Sol when it hides behind roiling nimbus banks. Perhaps I am too prone to exposition to suit someone of your taciturn nature. Damon did not strike me as a man of many words." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. You abruptly felt like you couldn't breathe as his body loomed over you.

"Too close." You managed to say, not ready to attempt to  _ actually _ push him away. 

Confusion flickered across his face, then he seemed to realize that he was leaning his helmet on your own. "Oh! My most sincere apologies, gentle soul. Number Two was a sturdy individual. Afraid I'm overused to restin' a bit of weight where it doesn't belong." He took a large step back, holding his hands out as if to assuage your fears. "I-I meant no disrespect."

His stammer took you by surprise. On someone who seemed so self-assured, it was decidedly out of place. You chewed on your lip and then dared to ask, "What's wrong? You're all...worried."

He stilled, looking away from you and suddenly grimacing in pain. "I...I'm afraid my sands are runnin' low, gentle soul." He admitted quietly. "We have to keep movin', get the lead out."

He trudged forward and before you could reconsider, your hand shot out to grab his. You squeezed it briefly, and then released him. "It'll...it'll all be okay." You tried to assure him, smiling at him like he had at you.

Ezra's expression was unreadable, his heavy brows furrowed deep with thought. He didn't respond to you verbally, just shaking his head after a moment and continuing onward through the Green.

...

The leader of this particular group of Saders, a man named Oruf, welcomed the two of you graciously into his tent once you had stowed your weapons a safe distance away from his village. 

Even in the filtered tent, Ezra's wheezing grew more and more pronounced as the minutes passed. You were actually  _ worried _ now, just how long had he been limping around with half-functional filtration?

"I was once a man like you, who came with a mind to strike aurelac." Oruf murmured. "But that man died down there in the Green." The other bedraggled inhabitants of the tent were eerily silent as Oruf spoke. He clearly commanded some lofty form of respect. "Born anew amongst friends, bonded into layers beyond the ability of the materialists to perceive." Oruf continued grandly. 

His eyes wandered to you as Ezra stifled another coughing fit, the Sader leader observing your every move with a calm boldness that had you on edge. 

"And now, our son will play for you." The boy, a sullen-looking child with hollow eyes who had been introduced as Fahr, obligingly accepted a strange instrument from his father.

Ezra, who had been almost doggedly focused on Oruf, jerked his eyes down to Fahr at the droning sound of the instrument, the prospector tilting his head to the side. Oruf continued to stare at you and you, in turn, continued to try and ignore the lingering fear currently chewing a hole through your stomach. You couldn't shake the sensation that something was very,  _ very _ wrong.

There was a woman laying on a pallet off to the side of the main room, and you wondered whether she was ill. She hadn't so much as opened her eyes the entire time you had been there.

The music stopped abruptly and you snapped your gaze back to Oruf, but mercifully he had his eyes closed. 

"That was beautiful." Ezra complimented, his voice seeming deliberately soft. Fahr inclined his head and then got to his feet, retrieving a small tray with two cups on it. 

Ezra perked up visibly, accepting his cup with a nod of thanks. When you received yours though, you felt a bit queasy. The contents looked a little more... _ viscous _ than you would have anticipated. 

Ezra sipped from his tumbler far more cautiously than he had imbibed the coffee in the pod. "Juice." He informed you helpfully, no doubt noticing your less-than-thrilled expression. "S'good for you, cleanses the dust."

Another coughing fit rattled his chest and you wondered fearfully just how much dust was in  _ your _ lungs. The so-called 'juice' felt like an oil slick in your mouth, slimy and  _ wrong _ , but you gulped it down anyway.

"Thank you for your kindness." Ezra said hoarsely to Oruf as Fahr vanished behind the curtain to the tent's side room. "Now, as you can see, I have sustained a trauma to my shoulder and would much like to flush it with your magic juice." He paused, "and to keep straight, we would also be very interested in proper dressin' and uh, filter refreshers if you have them and can spare them." Ezra tapped the filter that hung slack from his purifier assembly. "In return for your gracious offering, we are prepared to compensate with generosity in equal measure." 

He indicated at the heavy pack you had left beside the tent doorway, filled to the brim with everything and anything from the pod that you hadn't needed (and a few things that you could justify living without).

The young boy emerged from the curtained-off room once again, this time toting a large canister of liquid and a tray of small boxes, balanced on top of one of those all-too-familiar white cases. Fahr carefully laid the items out on the ground in front of you and Ezra, then retreated to sit down beside Oruf. "Here is our offer." The Sader patriarch announced calmly.

Despite the proclaimed direness of his infected wound, you didn't miss the way Ezra skipped over  _ everything _ that might have been remotely beneficial to him to head straight for the white case.  _ Old habits die hard _ , you supposed. He shakily flipped up the latches and cracked the lid.

Nine healthy-sized aurelac gems were nestled in the protective foam, all clear shells and amber pearls. 

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Ezra said slowly, a tentative smile quirking his mouth as he glanced up at Oruf. 

"For your woman." Oruf elaborated from across the tent, gesturing down at the white case and then to you. 

The breath stuttered in your lungs. You could have sworn your very heartbeat stopped. Silence reigned in the cramped space as you stared at the Sader man. 

_ For your woman _ . 

He was bargaining with  _ Ezra _ , offering all those supplies and aurelac, for  _ you _ . You abruptly wanted to puke. In that moment, you wished desperately that you hadn't obeyed them when they demanded you and Ezra to leave your throwers far from their little village.

Ezra appeared just as stunned as you were, finally croaking out, "that is...that is a  _ bold _ offer."

"It has been determined, but you cannot see because aurelac fills your eyes. It is inevitable all the same, that they will be reborn just like me." The Sader man leaned forward intently. "That is the reason why you were brought here. Not the aurelac."

"What…" Ezra swallowed hard, his voice grating roughly. "W-What do you need her for?"

"We lost our mother." Dread flooded your body anew as Oruf waved a hand towards the woman on the floor.  _ Not sleeping, but  _ **_dead_ ** , you realized. "And the rush past, it is time to rebuild." 

You were  _ absolutely _ going to be sick. The juice in your stomach writhed queasily, threatening to make a reappearance. They wanted you... _ as a mother? _

"The Currents have felt our loss, and have pulled you here to reclaim the balance." The man continued relentlessly.

You shot Ezra a panicked look and noted with despair how dark his expression was. He worked his jaw unconsciously, popping it over and over. He was  _ seriously _ considering this offer, you could see it plain as day on his face. After all, what were you to him? 

You were nothing, just like you had been to Damon. A convenient floater. Freighter scum. And to this man, trapped here for  _ far _ too long, you were his ticket off the Green.

Hours upon hours spent docked in the clutches of various freighters merged together into a mangled, horrifying mass, each instance worse than the last as you tried futilely to shove them all back down.

_ "You're a floater, who the fuck would even care?" Damon hissed, unstrapping his flight suit and gesturing downwards with one sharp jut of his wrist. "I picked you up for one  _ **_fucking_ ** _ reason, you understand?" _

You were going to be sick.

_ "Scream all you want, no one can hear you. This pussy is  _ **_mine_ ** _." _

_ "No one else would help you.  _ **_I'm_ ** _ the only one. Don't fucking forget that." _

You pressed a hand to your mouth and bolted out the flap of the tent, barely remembering to shove your helmet back on as you went.  _ They want a mother. _

_ No no no no  _ **_no!_ **

You knew in the back of your mind that it was foolish of you to run off on your own, but the idea of  _ sitting _ there calmly while Ezra meted out your bodily worth in chunks of aurelac was impossible to consider. 

You heard footsteps pursuing you and as you turned your head to look, your boot caught on a small hummock. You fell to the ground hard, quickly rolling over onto your back before Fahr lunged to land on top of you. The boy held a large, curved knife to your throat but then he paused, glancing backwards. 

You could hear shouting from the tent. You quickly reached up while the child was distracted, tearing free his filter tube and then shoving him off your body. Free once more, you took off pell-mell back into the jungleous expanse. 

Damon's voice echoed in your ears as you fled to where the throwers were hidden.

" _ You're a floater, who the fuck would even care? _ "


	3. Sketchy Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore and allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

Bakhroma loomed massive and pinkish-tan on the horizon ahead as you bent double, hands on your knees while you struggled for breath. No doubt you had pushed your filter carbon far past its limits with your headlong sprint heats through the Green. A quick look confirmed your suspicions; the indicator blinked sluggishly at the bottom of the red lines.

You bit your lip, barely reining in the panic threatening to engulf you yet again. You had no idea where you were. Damon was the one with the map, and Ezra...he was the only person alive who might be able to help you. Your heart dropped as you realized that all your running had  _ really _ done was prolong the inevitable. 

You sank to the ground, staring up at the planet that dominated most of the sky in front of you. The hazy atmosphere around it was bright orange, fading into the navy blue of the cosmos backdrop. Checking your watch, you saw that the first cycle had kicked into the second several hours ago, though the light level didn't seem to have changed at all. The cloying, overbearing vegetation around you abruptly made sense. This moon was not only humid, it was also bathed in light for  _ much _ longer than the standard twenty-four cycle. 

Moving robotically as your legs began to protest, you lumbered stiffly back to the treeline to suss out the spring you had passed by. You would need water. Even if you weren't in the right headspace to be thirsty, dehydration was not something to sneeze at.

You knelt in the mud alongside the spring, the coolness welcome on your overworked knees even through your suit. Pumping and purifying water always took longer than it ought to, and you found yourself staring blankly off into the distance as you filled your first jug.

You were working on the second when your helmet earpiece suddenly crackled to life with a shrill whine of static. 

" _ -llo...hello to the Green. _ "

_ Ezra? _

You swiveled your head wildly to look around and the static increased with the motion, making you slow to a stop. It was a stationary transmission, then. Your helmet must be picking up a long range somewhere nearby.

You rose to your feet while rushing to stow the jugs of filtered water in your day pack, tilting your head and mentally begging Ezra to keep talking. He did not disappoint, his drawling voice and the bursts of intermittent static your compass through the tangled overgrowth.

" _...one or two pearls...that I will be willing to part with for well under the peakest commercial rates.  _ **_Nothin' funny_ ** _. _ " 

It sounded like he hadn't managed to get what he needed to fix the drop pod. Your eyes burned with tears. 

" _ Just a desperate man tryin' to make a bad deal with the right holdout. _ "

Brick red flickered through the Green's lush verdancy and you realized after a moment that it was canvas. A tent solidified out of the thick brush as you advanced, the roof coated in a generous layer of amber-yellow dust. 

" _...anyone is out there...don't hesitate to click on _ ." The signal was nearly free of static at this point. This tent was the obvious origin of the broadcast. But  _ now _ the question was...whether that message was prerecorded or not. 

You hid beside a large, gnarled tree and pondered your next move. Sure, you had the pistol. If it did you any  _ good _ was an entirely different animal, but you definitely had it. 

It felt sturdy in your hand compared to the flimsy Boscelot thrower rifle. Solid. 

Maybe...maybe you could reason with Ezra at gunpoint. Strike some kind of new bargain. You had nothing to put on the table this time, however. Everything had been in that pack, and you highly doubted the other prospector was interested in your sketchbooks. It would have to be at gunpoint. He had the resources, but you had the gun. 

_ Just like Damon _ . 

You hated yourself in that moment, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, you darted across the space to the tent, ears straining to catch any noise from inside the structure. You couldn't hear much through your helmet to begin with.

After a quick prayer, you unzipped the tent and cautiously ducked your head to enter, leading with the thrower pistol clutched in your hands.

Someone seized your arm like a steel trap and you were  _ ripped _ through the doorway, the pistol getting knocked out of your grasp in the process. Your plan effectively destroyed, you succumbed to panic, thrashing and attempting to claw at your assailant even with your gloves on. You twisted your head around to try and catch a glimpse--

And those bloodshot blue eyes seemed to loom up at you from the dimly-lit interior, making you scream out in terror, "No,  _ no, Damon please! _ " as you struggled to get free. 

He all but wrestled you bodily into one of the tent bunks, grunting in pain when you beat your gloved fists into his ribs. You weren't sure if it was just because of the adrenaline or if it was due to how long you had been separated from him, but you had never fought him this hard in your  _ life! _ You had always just accepted, given in, bowed to his demands. Where had this tenacity even come from?

"Not again,  _ not again! _ " You sobbed, futilely kicking your legs to try and throw him off of you. "P-Please, please,  _ please _ \--!"

"Gentle soul, if you do not cease  _ tenderizin' my ribcage _ in this most belligerent and unneighborly manner," a familiar drawl met your ears through your thick helmet, "I will have no resource but to employ far more drastically militant tactics. Be  _ still _ ."

That voice! You froze, your hands still bunched up to tear at the fabric of his exosuit.  _ Ezra _ . 

His large form seemed to solidify in the exceedingly-dreary tent lighting now that you weren't fighting for your life, and you realized with a rush of embarrassment that it hadn't been Damon's eyes you saw, but the distorted reflection of the whites of your own in your helmet's dome. That, coupled with your imagination...

Damon was dead. How could you have forgotten? Damon was dead. It was just Ezra.

_ Does that make it any better? _

You released him without a word, scrambling back as far as you could and drawing your knees to your chest in a defensive stance. Ezra stumbled upright, reaching overhead with his left hand to press a few buttons. The tent's air scrubber rattled sluggishly to life. "You can take off the helmet." He muttered.

You did so almost immediately, taking a greedy inhale of the dubiously-clean oxygen. A bit bar hit the threadbare bunk webbing by your feet and you ripped the colorful wrapper open, tearing chunks out of the crunchy substance with your teeth. As you devoured the bar ravenously, you realized that Ezra was utterly silent. 

You dared to flick your eyes up and found him studying you, his expression pensive in the sickly orange twilight of the tent. You gulped down the bite of Calori-paste that now threatened to choke you. "I...I'm sorry." You apologized thickly. "I shouldn't have-"

"Be quiet and finish the bar, gentle soul." Ezra instructed softly. He sounded  _ unsettled _ , of all things. Like he expected you to turn on him any second. "I believe I have unfortunately deduced the answer to the mystery I had pondered earlier, though I wholeheartedly regret opening that proverbial Pandora's box." He shook his head.

The Calori-paste sat in your stomach like a block of lead. You struggled through the last few bites, washing them down with swigs of plasticky water from your canteen. You held out the other bottle that you had filtered as a sort of silent peace offering and Ezra accepted it without hesitation, the older man proceeding to gulp half the bottle in one go.

"I know you may not be overly inclined towards listenin' to me at the moment," he gasped out, wiping the moisture off his mustache. "But I'm afraid my situation has grown even more dire than previously implied." He raised his eyes to meet your own. "I...I need your help." He confessed.

You took another drink of water to give you the time to collect your thoughts. You were certain your disbelief was plain on your face; you had never been gifted in the art of hiding your turns of expression.

Ezra snorted, lowering his body to sit on the far end of the bunk. "The Saders were not exceptionally keen on barterin' with me once you made your timely departure." He held his arm, wincing and no longer looking at you. "I managed to convince them to swap me some of their ambrosia for supplies, instead of-" He halted, his shoulders going rigid before he carefully continued, "I cannot excise the infection without assistance, and if I do not remove it with an  _ exceedingly _ low degree of error, I will lose the whole arm."

You swallowed hard, clenching your fist so tight that the handle on the water jug creaked as you asked, "Were you going to give me to them?" 

You knew that all Ezra had to do was say exactly what you wanted to hear. But you could live with the prettier lie if it got you off the Green. You could pretend to trust, pantomime the partnership.

His eyebrows drew together in a dark frown and you watched his jaw work sporadically before he finally exhaled a singular, monosyllabic, " _ no _ ."

You waited for the rest of the sentence, the emphatic declarations of  _ I would never! _ or  _ what kind of man do you take me for? _ , but he remained silent, staring at the tent floor. Weirdly, the lack of long-winded antics made his answer feel  _ more _ honest somehow. He was obviously a gifted liar, tailoring his technique to his target. 

You sighed heavily through your nose. "Okay." 

You told yourself that the bewildered gratitude in his eyes must have  _ also _ been part of his ability to tell falsehoods.

Ezra prepared the sparse surgical supplies from your kit with a somber, almost funereal air. He seemed to be already convinced that his arm was a total loss. Maybe he knew better than to put much stock in the abilities of a battered floater. 

You were seized with the uncanny urge to prove him wrong. Your need for validation was what had landed you in this mess with Damon all those stands ago, you reminded yourself, but you couldn't shake the habit so easily. "Did I hurt you? When I...when I hit you?" You asked before you could think better of it. 

"No more than the average lighthearted dig dust-up would, gentle soul. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf." Ezra replied dully. "I offer my most sincere reparations for givin' you a fright."

"I spooked myself. I...I saw the reflection of my own eyes in my helmet and I thought…" you trailed off, nervously sipping your water.

"That man, Damon." Ezra hesitated, struggling to secure the band around his upper arm. "I know it is  _ rude _ to ask after personal affairs, but did he-"

"Don't." You said softly. 

To his credit Ezra stopped  _ immediately _ , busying himself with the tourniquet. After he had completed that arduous task, he bit the cap off of one of the porta-surge syrettes, spitting it out to land neatly in the lid of the field kit. He jabbed the needle home in his shoulder with a poorly-muffled gasp of pain, nearly crushing the tube with the force of his motion before dropping that into the kit lid as well. "The lid is for sharps." He informed you. "We lack a tray or a proper sterile environment, so keep your hands clear."

"I'll cap that once I get gloved up." You assured him. "I'm  _ not _ leaving a sharp in the field kit. Knowing me, I'd forget it was in there and wind up accidentally pricking myself or something." 

Ezra nodded, swallowing convulsively. You took the Ralon scalpel from his slightly-shaky hand. "You ever used one of these?" He asked, his voice gone a bit reedy. His breathing in general seemed poor, off-tempo. He was  _ afraid _ . The knowledge that he was just as scared as you were made you feel more sure of yourself, for good or ill. 

You shook your head in reply to his question, explaining, "I've never used this model before. The one I have for harvesting is much older."

Ezra reached over, flashing you a disingenuous smile. "It's easy." 

He pressed down on the side of the scalpel battery pack, activating the laser blade. The whole handle buzzed in your grip, feeling uncannily like your handheld stitcher.

"There's five levels of intensity. Use two for flesh. Four for bone."  _ Bone?! _ You jerked your head up, meeting his terrified gaze. "You got it?" He choked out after a second.

You nodded stiffly. If he wanted you to know the bone setting, then by Kevva, you  _ would _ .

His eyes softened and for a split-second he looked like he might cry. "Thank you." He rasped, blinking rapidly and then glancing away. 

You rummaged around in the porta-surge for the tiny, standard-issue penlight, immensely thankful that the battery still had enough power to work. The tent was poorly illuminated, outside light barely able to filter through the thick material. "Will this...when I start, is it going to hurt you?" The sterile glove packet made an  _ ungodly _ amount of noise, crinkling and crackling in your hands as you fought to tear the seal.

Ezra scoffed, demonstrating the sensation that his right arm currently possessed by slapping his limp hand a few times. "I won't feel a thing. Hack away." His breathing was still too fast even as he continued to prattle, "quick, confident strokes are best. Try to go full circuit on the first cut."

You nodded again, one-handedly scooping the syrette and pushing it against the side of the lid to shove the cap back on. Then, you disposed of it in the trash bag by the door. Holding the penlight between your teeth, you smoothed your gloved hand down his arm to pin it securely in place. You were  _ really _ going to do this. Well, if he wasn't able to feel it...

You had peeled multitudes of aurelac gems in your mining career. You were exceptionally delicate when it came to skinning the pearls. You couldn't recall the last time you had punctured one of the blisters and ruined a pull. Surely...surely this wouldn't be much different. 

"I've never had to use these syrettes before. Kinda' nice. Tingly." Ezra commented as the scalpel buzzed to life. "Almost like it's…" With something that  _ might _ have resembled quick confidence, you began your excision. The laser blade whirred through his epidermis with enviable ease, smoking slightly. "Oh shit. Oh  _ shit _ ." The older man muttered over your head, his whole body gone tense.

"What?" You asked around the penlight. Ezra started panting, his chest heaving violently underneath his threadbare waffle thermal layer. "Does it hurt?"

" _ No _ . N...h--I-I don't know. Keep goin'." He stammered. "You're doin'  _ great _ , k-keep goin' until you think you've got it all." His left hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone nearly stark white beneath the layers of ground-in dirt. "Once y...once you finish, dump the juice into the wound and th-then cream it a-all sh _ -iiit _ , shut,  _ shut _ ." He continued to instruct you through gritted teeth. 

You nodded, wholly focused on your task. At least it wasn't difficult to spot where the infection had reached. It turned the tissue and muscle it consumed to a sinister purple-black. You tried to keep your brain separated from the fact that this was a _human arm_ you were methodically carving a chunk out of, a human arm attached to a _living_ _person_ who, despite his incredibly convincing big talk, could _definitely_ feel what you were doing. You deliberately narrowed everything down to being as rapid and thorough as possible, like when you had to harvest in a poor environment. Every extra second you spent was a precious resource you could ill-afford to waste, literally. Thank stars that he had the tourniquet wrapped so tightly, even if the blade did it's damnedest to cauterize as you cut.

Once you were as certain as you could conceivably be that you had removed all the infected matter from the wound, you sloshed some of the Sader's juice from Ezra's canteen onto the exposed area. It  _ hissed _ and steamed like boiling water and Ezra buried his face in the crook of his left elbow, biting down on his sleeve and screaming into the fabric. 

Your hands finally started to tremble as you loaded the patch gun and listened to him dry heave, but you doggedly kept at it.  _ Just a little more to go _ . It felt like it took an eternity for the stupid cream to  _ expand _ . The reload was probably years past its expiration date. 

And then it was over. 

You carefully gathered up the grotesque little pieces of your handiwork that had fallen on the floor, balling everything into your fist. The gloves squeaked wetly when you stripped them, turning them inside out as you did to keep the blood and organic matter contained. They dropped into the waste bag by the door, plopping sadly down next to the spent syrette on a bed of bit bar wrappers. 

You shakily switched off your penlight and took a step back, reaching for one of the tiny antiseptic wipe packets. Despite your best efforts, the skin of your wrists was spattered here and there with blood. You scrubbed at the rusty fluid silently. 

Ezra's whole  _ body _ was shuddering with every groaning retch, saliva hanging in thick strands from the bottom of his slack mouth as he rocked his way through the pain and clearly fought down the urge to vomit. Moved by the admittedly-pitiful sight, you tugged loose your bandanna and wiped off his chin. "It's done." You informed him softly.

He caught your wrist before you could pull away and you were shocked when he pressed a sloppy kiss to your knuckles. "You are  _ Kevva-sent _ , gentle soul, never let anyone t-tell you otherwise." He grated, "Divinity incarnate; a damn  _ valkyrie _ in floater's clothing, decidin' my fate on the battlefield."

You squinted at him, down at the grisly mass of expanded foam and then back at his face. "I don't know if I would count this as a  _ battlefield _ , Ezra." 

" _ Martyr's malfeasance _ ," he swore, his voice cracking, "you can attempt to dismiss it but I will  _ never _ forget this kindness, gentle soul. Not even in the next life." 

"Don't...look, let's just hope I did everything right." The insanity of the task you had just performed struck you anew and hysteria bloomed in your chest. At the same time, his heartfelt proclamations of gratitude settled low in your belly, a flickering flame of pride that you wanted to shelter and nurture. You sat down hard on the bunk, pulling your knees up again. The still-smoking scalpel gleamed at you in the dim light of the tent. "I'm probably gonna' be sick." You warned him faintly.

"You are  _ far _ from alone in that camp, gentle soul." Ezra replied dolefully. "We'll be spewin' in the same trough shortly, I imagine. I have always been a man... _ afflicted _ by the trials of sympathetic vomiting." 

"Oh  _ no! _ " You found yourself caught between laughing and gagging, settling for a retching little snicker. "Come  _ on _ , don't say stuff like that, you're gonna' make me hurl."

After several queasy moments had passed, he spoke up again, "I know you are just as eager as I to continue on to that mercenary camp, but I must insist on a short reprieve. A burge... _ burgeoning _ cloud of exhaustion is relieving me of what little sensibility I possess." He tucked his wounded arm against his chest as he curled up in his bunk. "And I will need time for the syrette to wear off, lest I be rendered an incompetent, staggering buffoon."

"We have to go to them, don't we?" Your voice was tiny.

Ezra sighed. "It would appear so. We will have to throw ourselves upon their proverbial mercies and hope that they are willing to acquiesce in exchange for our harvestin'." He cocked his head to look at you curiously. "Do you actually believe that it's the Queen's Lair they've stumbled upon entirely by chance?"

"Does it matter?" You asked. "Damon thought it was legitimate enough to throw the both of us across the universe in a trashy rental pod. I  _ would _ say that must count for something, but…" You shrugged, propping yourself up against the end of the bunk.

"I understand. Still though, we will need rest if we are to successfully tackle this conundrum." He drowsily watched you as you dug around in your suit pockets to locate your sketchbook. The current iteration was a beaten memo pad from the pod rental company, each page stamped with the letterhead of  _ Dasha Landcraft Rental _ . 

This was a familiar ritual to you. Turning your brain off whenever you needed to rest was a difficult thing to manage. In your mid-teens you had begun sketching before lights out and found that for some reason, the activity emptied your thoughts enough to allow you to sleep much easier than you had ever managed without it.

You unwound the twine that kept the pages closed and flipped to a fresh one. Trying to recreate the scenery you had witnessed earlier, sketching Bakhroma hovering imposing on the Green's horizon. 

"An  _ artist _ , now that I did not anticipate." Ezra commented. You flinched, realizing how close he had leaned in to watch you. "What else have you drawn, gentle soul? Might I peruse your work?" He requested, his hand extended.

"I'm not--!" You floundered, tilting away and clutching the pad protectively to your chest. "I-I'm not...I'm not an  _ artist _ . I just…I can't sleep without um, doing. Something like this." You tapped the notepad nervously. "It helps me relax." 

_ Drawing is a waste of time, you should be spending that time cultivating skills relevant to your field _ .

"No harm in that." Ezra replied agreeably, his words striking a sharp contrast against the echoes of Damon's belittling in your head. His hand remained outstretched, patiently waiting. 

You let out your breath slowly, rooting around in your hip pocket for the previous pad you had filled. That one you had pilfered from the Jata Bhalu processing facility, it had an actual  _ hard cover _ and a loop for a writing implement. You tugged it free and hesitantly passed it to him, stammering once again that you weren't an  _ artist _ , this was just something you  _ did _ .

Ezra was devastatingly silent as he leafed through your tiny sketchbook. For someone that you had come to expect to  _ talk _ , the stillness that permeated the tent made you unnaturally fearful. Your fingernails dug into your memo pad. What if...what if he was judging you? Some of the sketches were tired and messy, some of them smudged from your environment. Tea and coffee and tears blotted the pages. What if he didn't like them?

This was why you didn't show anyone your drawings, you-

"Have you ever considered acquirin' one of the draw-pads? I am no artist myself, but I know that the digital method saves precious space in pods." Ezra suggested. "And a single rainy day could ruins  _ months _ of this hard work you have stockpiled."

"I...I  _ want _ one, of course. It's just...they're so expensive and I could never justify it." You murmured, a little sad as you thought back to standing outside the pawn shop of the last freighter and gazing down at the battered box in the window. Out of date models alone were well removed from your price range. You could only  _ imagine _ how much a brand new one would set you back.

"Puggart Bench West! I'd recognize that dock anywhere." Ezra exclaimed suddenly, wiping his hand off on his leg before he tapped on the page. "West dock is a real  _ hive _ , isn't it?"

"Oh, y-yeah." You stuttered. 

"And this one...a deep space miner? Thing looks at least Fringe kestron grade." Ezra continued, squinting. "Not quite Testin, but it'll do in a pinch. I had a few stands on one of those. Food was  _ shit _ ."

"That was...um, it was just a ship that went by the transport freighter that I was on. Out in the Fringe." You shrugged, grimacing. "I didn't know what kind it was." You reached over with your pencil. "How do you spell 'kestron'?"

"K-e-s," Ezra paused, his brow furrowing, "t-r-o-n. If I'm not mistaken. Hell, it might be t-r-e-n." He admitted. "I'm uncertain, gentle soul. It has been so many stands since I've...since I've seen…" he yawned widely, then set off on another tangent. "In the Pug, there was this...vendor, you follow me, in this  _ mercado _ ." He rolled the 'r' in the unfamiliar word, like he was luxuriating in being able to say it. "They had--shit, it was some sort of...treat, the name is eludin' me. Drizzled honey, cinnamon, that fancy sugar dustin'…"

"Little pillowy things?" You supplied. "When the place made them fresh you could smell them all the way down the block?"

"Kevva,  _ yes _ , now you got my stomach beggin'." Ezra groaned. "What were they  _ called _ though?"

"It started with an 's', so...pa-"

"Sopaipillas!" He erupted, his eyes lighting up. "I swear, gentle soul, my heart just skipped a beat." He chuckled dreamily, "As much as I bemoaned the drudgery of it when I was there, I'd love to be back on the Pug right about now. Bench was a eternal shit hole, but at least I could  _ breathe _ ." He lolled his head to the side, looking at you once more. "When you and I escape this Green hell, I insist that you give me the pleasure of your gracious company on an expedition to that hallowed  _ mercado _ ." The older man slurred, his eyes sliding closed. "We will devour countless treats in safety and stroll the docks. A heavenly concept, you  _ must _ admit."

"That  _ does _ sound nice." You replied wistfully.

"It is settled, then." He held out his left hand to shake yours and you obliged, feeling childishly  _ hopeful _ about the whole thing. "Now, set the alarm on that platinum chronometer of yours. Maybe...four hours or so? Kevva knows I'd love longer, but if we hope to arrive with adequate harvest time, we'll need to manage ourselves with caution." Ezra squeezed your hand, his smile weary. "Rest well, gentle soul."


	4. Brism Burst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains vivid depictions of gore and minor allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

"Well, there's our ride." Ezra observed, sounding relieved. You didn't blame him. The two of you had pushed yourselves hard to get to the camp with enough time to spare for harvesting after your short rest. Night had slowly fallen as you moved, so it had been a blessing to see the large fire from the mercenaries' camp.

"Let's go then, c'mon." You murmured, striding forward. A hand on your sleeve stopped you in your tracks, and you turned back to give him a look of confusion.

His eyes had gone wide, deep brown reflecting the greenish-yellow gleam of the fire. "Damon spoke of Karolclan mercs. He conveniently forgot to mention that they were  _ the _ Karolclan mercs. The only ones that fucking  _ matter _ ." Ezra hissed, "That's fuckin'  _ Mikken's _ crew, gentle soul, or I will eat my haul."

You hadn't actually been concerned about the mercenaries until Ezra resorted to dropping ' _ fucking _ ' every other word. He hadn't cursed this much when you had taken a chunk out of his arm.

"Martyr's malfeasance, we are in the  _ shit _ ." He continued, sounding panicky. "See that woman?  _ Inumon, _ the fuckin' Krebine defector. The fabled blood-soaked  _ bloodhound _ from that whole mess with the Second Illumination."

Your stomach knotted nervously despite not even knowing who (or what) the Second Illumination was. "I...maybe I should go in alone?" You suggested. Ezra fixed you with an incredulous look, those heavy brows drawn tight enough to carve furrows in his forehead. "Look, I'm...I'm not threatening, right? If I go in first..."

"You wander into that camp of Fringeling mercs, raw at the end of tour--" He stopped, shaking his head grimly. "Gentle soul, the outcome of that  _ particular _ negotiation technique has less and less favor as the seconds pass."

You swallowed hard. "They might be more willing to accept our terms if I...if I offer them something first. Damon said I-" You closed your eyes, not wanting to repeat what Damon had said about you and your potential _bodily_ _bargaining_ capabilities. "M-Maybe I could-"

"Damon is  _ dead _ for a reason, gentle soul. And if that man did anythin' to you regarding something like  _ that _ , he deserved every slug Number Two and myself placed in his churlish,  _ thieving _ junkie guts." Ezra snarled. "Did he-?"

"I told you not to ask." You reminded him in a whisper. His fury made you feel warmer even as your stomach dropped out.

"That...you did." He allowed reluctantly. "I apologize. Intrigue will always be the  _ death _ of my good sense." He pulled himself up a bit, squaring his shoulders. "All the same, no. I am not throwin' you into that lions den alone. You are no Daniel, gentle soul. Stay clear and close and I'll talk us through." Ezra bumped his helmet against your own, his tone serious. "When it comes time to dig, I'll need you sharp. I've never harvested one-handed before. I'm gonna' need some help. But we'll keep it creamy, and it'll all be fine." He assured you with a wan smile.

You did your best to smile back, but you were certain it looked more like a wince. Ezra gripped your arm tight, almost like a hug. 

"Alright, gentle soul. Deep breaths."

…

The fabled Mikken's reception was...less than warm. As Ezra haggled carefully with him, all easy smiles, bowing and scraping, you watched the man's second in command slink closer in the light of the fire. Something about her eyes set off warning bells in your head; now  _ this _ was a Krebine. She had the lethal grace, the jammer belt, and on her flank hung a red canvas square with a faded, complex insignia. 

_ Inumon _ , Ezra had said. It sounded almost like  _ inhuman _ .

You weren't particularly  _ surprised _ when she lunged at you, but that didn't stop you from being scared stiff. Your back hit the ground  _ hard _ and you felt her body press down on you, the square angles of her helmet skidding against the round dome of your own. Her eyes flicked back and forth, like she was waiting for you to start struggling.  _ Prey _ , that was all you were to her.

"Inumon here has been lookin' for a way out since touchdown." Mikken remarked calmly to Ezra. "I'd reckon you'd best jump to it if you're tryin' to keep your pay... _ and _ your partner."

Inumon was muttering under her breath in Vayok, those eyes watching you as she palmed roughly over the front of your helmet. You didn't make a sound. You weren't sure if you even  _ could _ have at that point, her weight concentrated on your abdomen all but cutting off your ability to breathe. 

Ezra crouched next to your head, his knee rubbing your shoulder as he fixed Inumon with a fierce gaze through his helmet. "I am the gatekeeper to more wealth than any of us have ever seen." Gone was his easy smile, his words as strategically aimed as thrower shots. "And you've been wastin' in the Green for far too long to let that slip away."

Inumon slid Ezra's confiscated pistol beneath your chin. You cringed, giving Ezra a panicky look.

The prospector seemed unaffected by Inumon's threat, the knee pointedly digging into your shoulder the only indicator that he took note of your fright. "I'm afraid I am the only means to the successful end of your venture." He tipped his eyes up to Mikken. "And  _ I _ say the terms have changed." Ezra rose to his full height once more, his voice firm. "Thirteen points, plus a ride for me and my partner on your handsome craft, or no deal.  _ Find a way _ ." 

Inumon ground her helmet down against your own and you could feel the thrower pressing up into your gorget gasket. The chiclet of Brism popped free from its tape, landing somewhere behind your head inside your helmet. The side of Ezra's boot rested against your arm and you closed your eyes, attempting to center yourself with the steady pressure. 

"Now, I do not intend to breach my station," Spoke up one of the other mercenaries, his voice humming mechanically. "But perhaps the secondary hydrogen four offers a viable solution to this stalemate." He hesitated, then continued, "one that will keep us all in pay."

"My boy, this is a winner." Ezra agreed, his genial smile back. "I think a little backup thrust is an easy drop under the circumstances. What do you say, boss?"

Mikken waited for what felt like an eternity before growling out, " _ Fine _ ."

Inumon jerked away from you at the sound of his agreement, spitting more Vayok. It was clear that she was dissatisfied with this arrangement, and she made that lack of satisfaction abundantly clear when she grabbed hold of Ezra's filter and switched it off.

The man began to choke almost immediately, coughing and struggling for breath while Inumon just stared at him impassively through her helmet. You inched your hand towards her ankle. If you pulled, she would at the very least be knocked off balance; she would probably let go of Ezra's filter and then-

Mikken suddenly spoke up in Vayok, barking some sort of order, and Inumon reluctantly released the switch. She hissed  _ something _ at Ezra that made his back go rigid even as he gulped air, the prospector glaring at her venomously before he seemed to be able to stop himself. 

"Well…" he drawled, his tone dripping with forced joviality as he reached down to help you up from the ground, "gentlemen... _ and _ women, let's get rich." Acting like he was assisting you in dusting yourself off, he pressed the side of his helmet to yours and muttered, " _ too _ close, sorry about that. Glad you would have helped though." Obviously he had noticed your intent to go after her ankle.

You gripped his good arm tightly, nodding as you kneaded at the exosuit sleeve. You didn't trust your voice, certain that if you opened your mouth you would start crying and wouldn't be able to stop. 

Ezra patted the back of your helmet and then pulled away. "Ready to dig?" He asked brightly.

...

It was  _ indeed _ the Queen's Lair, or as close to it as reality could get. Rows upon rows of small mounds dotted the shallow crater, each one promising aurelac pearls that dwarfed whatever you had harvested previously. 

Ezra was as giddy as a child, his exhaustion forgotten as he scampered around the dig site examining everything while you prepared the diffuser and the fazer squeeze bottle. 

One of the hummocks had been pierced, the blood spattered around it serving as a clear indicator of the excavationary skill Mikken's crew possessed. "Somebody already gave her a go?" Ezra queried curiously, tugging free the knife that was still embedded in the hummock.

"We found it diggin' for tie-downs." Mikken tilted his head back towards the fire, indicating the mercenary in the red exosuit. The empty left sleeve of his suit had been knotted and pinned at the shoulder. "Our boy dove in fist first, and it ate his arm." 

Ezra shook his head, ruefully drawling, "That's the price of a dry breach." He seemed a touch  _ too _ self-assured when he continued, "but my chem will calm the brine." He began using the knife to test the area, carefully tapping the hilt against the hummocks. 

It was important to know how filled with brine each mound was, as the prudent prospector would begin with the least full and work their way up, nullifying and draining the brine as they went to reduce the potential risk. Of course, you had never seen a cluster of this  _ particular _ magnitude. You were uncertain if there was even a way to safely 'runoff' the no-doubt copious amounts of brine, but you were game to try if Ezra was.

"Hello, sweetheart." Ezra crooned as a hollow noise rang out from beneath the knife's questing grip. The older man flipped the knife around and stabbed into the mounded earth, slicing it open gingerly. He was solely using his left hand, the right hanging limp at his side. 

You pressed the square container of diffuser into his hand when he gestured you over, and you could feel him shaking. Whether from excitement or weariness, you couldn't say. 

"You got the cocktail mixed, gentle soul?" He asked idly as steam issued from the hole, the nuller working its magic to render the gear-dissolving brine impotent. 

"Of course." You replied, all business. This was what you  _ knew _ how to do. "Are we pulling them all and then de-blistering and fazing, or are we fazing as we go?"

Ezra hummed contemplatively, working his jaw. "I'd say a bit of both." He murmured. "Lest our gracious hosts grow  _ impatient _ with us." He cocked his head surreptitiously over at Mikken, who was looking back towards the campfire. "We'll pull a few, faze, rinse and repeat." 

"How's your hand?" You asked softly.

"It is...not suited for delicate work." Ezra grimaced. "I can feel it again and it is not festerin', mind you, but I know better than to try and use it for anythin' important."

You nodded. "I'll handle the skinning, then."

The two of you worked nearly in silence for a time. You constantly checked your watch, the red indicators at the top blinking to warn you that the second cycle had long since shifted into the third. 

Ezra was slow, almost  _ too _ slow. The minutes between pulls seemed to be stretching longer and longer as he struggled along left-handed to extract the aurelac sacks, and you noticed Mikken beginning to get antsy. 

"Want to swap?" You offered, climbing down into the crater. "Skin a few, rest." 

"No, n-no no, I'm fine." Ezra waved you off with that easy grin, but his eyes were grave. "I would not be of any particular use for the de-blisterin', my hands...I'm not up to snuff, gentle soul." He sighed. "This is the more prudent option. I am simply weary due to our forced march, you can sympathize."

"Is there a problem?" Mikken asked, his thrower rifle whining as he primed it.

"We're just discussing a switch, maybe taking a short break." You squeaked before Ezra could pipe up. 

Mikken shook his head. "No breaks. You work through to the end or you don't get on the rock jumper. Simple as that." The thrower remained primed, aimed lazily to the side of you.

"Indeed." Ezra replied dryly. "We'll get back to it then." His hand caught your own and he squeezed it, whispering, "I will endure, gentle soul. I have no choice. Salvation beckons."

The hours dragged by, that mercenary with the voice modulator (who apparently went by Jack) wandering over every now and then to collect the extracted pearls and package them up. Your neck and back ached, fingers cramping from how tightly you had to hold the scalpel. But if you wavered you would puncture the blisters of carrom acid that protected the aurelac, ruining the pearls beyond any hope of salvage.

Ezra's breathing was dissolving into hacking coughs yet again. His battered filter had clearly given out. You rose from your spot beside the crater and nearly toppled in, pins and needles flooding your body. 

Mikken leveled the thrower at you and you raised your hands. "I-I'm just going to tether to him! If he can't breathe, he can't harvest." You reasoned frantically, tapping your tether tube and then gesturing down at the wheezing man. "We have enough length that he can still work, I promise. I can always move closer."

Mikken muttered something under his breath, but lowered the gun. 

You stumbled into the pit, moving as fast as your half-sleeping limbs would allow. Ezra didn't even seem to notice your presence until the tube had been hooked up for several seconds, the man starting violently and stepping back from you. "Martyr's  _ malfeasance _ gentle soul, don't creep up on a man unawares." He said blearily. "Liable to get perforated."

You scooped the large knife off the ground where he had dropped it and gave him a gentle nudge towards the lip of the crater. "I know you don't trust yourself to faze right now, but I'm sure you can at least skin a few. Hop out. I'll extract."

"Gentle soul, I-" Ezra shook his head, extending his left hand to you. His whole arm was trembling and jerking wildly, muscles in spasm from the prolonged toil. "I can assure you that is a poor choice." He said through gritted teeth. 

"You need to rest." You insisted.

"No, I  _ need _ to get the  _ fuck _ off this  _ pestilence-ridden Nessus _ before I lose the last tenuous fragments of my sanity!" He snapped, raising his voice in frustration. You cringed at his volume and Ezra swore again, closing his eyes tightly and taking several deep breaths. "I-I apologize, gentle soul, it's not you that I'm-"

"Hey." Mikken said sharply. "You're here to  _ dig _ , not have a damn conversation."

"And how much longer do you  _ expect _ us to do so, praytell?" Ezra queried angrily, attempting to pull himself up out of the shallow crater. "The shadows are growin' heavy. We were hardly a dose away from the freighter pass when we arrived, and it has been--" 

Mikken interrupted him with a shrug. "Don't take more than five minutes to prime the jumper for takeoff. And Jack's been loadin' as you harvest,  _ floater _ ." He spat the term like a curse.

You could pinpoint the exact moment where Ezra entirely lost his composure, the prospector seizing your scalpel and wordlessly sawing it into Mikken's heel. The mercenary toppled into the pit, his thrower going off as he did. Hideously silent aside from his struggling breathing, Ezra caught the back of the man's neck and forced his entire head into one of the many open wounds on the Queen. The brine hissed and sizzled as Mikken thrashed, then everything was still.

You stared at Ezra, who was staring down at the still-twitching body at his feet. "The...the shot will bring the rest of 'em in." He choked out. "Don't say anythin'. I'll do my best to salvage this, alright?" 

You nodded dumbly, setting the knife back down on the ground and instead grabbing the small squeeze bottle of fazer. If worse came to worst, you at least knew you could use the fazer as a distraction.

Ezra launched into a string of profanities under his breath, each one more creative than the last. The man was  _ clearly _ furious with himself for losing his grip on his temper, but you could hardly blame him.  _ Floater _ .

You heard the distant clatter of gear approaching, catching sight of Inumon and Jack storming past the campfire. Your heart leaped into your throat as the mercenaries clustered around the crater, throwers aimed at you and Ezra.

"Greedy fool!" Ezra announced, his smooth grin back on his face. "Couldn't help himself. Took a stumble gettin' a closer look." He gestured down at Mikken's remains. "Now, time presses! And I am going to need assistance if we are to-"

Whatever he  _ would _ have said was drowned out by the deafening music and static from Inumon's jammer belt, the woman circling the pit as the sound overrode the transmission from Ezra's helmet com. Your ears rang at the sudden auditory assault, making you shake your head in a vain attempt to dislodge the noise.

Inumon knelt at the edge of the excavation, her eyes trailing down the length of Mikken's body. You clutched the bottle of fazer tightly and, as you heard the primer on her gun shriek to life, you yanked Ezra's arm and pitched the fazer into the nearest open mound. Ezra grabbed hold of you, pinning you to the side of the pit and shielding you with the bulk of his suit. 

The resulting chemical reaction rocked the ground and kicked up a massive cloud of dust. Ezra snatched Mikken's gun, cradling it in the crook of his bad arm and then grasping your hand to all but fling you in front of him. A thrower shot whizzed past your helmet and Ezra shouted, "go,  _ go! _ " 

His heavy boots thundered on the ground behind you as the two of you fled into the surrounding woodland. The prospector jerked you down into a bush and you heard the thrower prime as he checked the ammunition. 

" _ Fuck _ , how fortuitous." Ezra groaned, "best hope they come in singles." 

As if in response to his comment, that merc named Jack emerged from the dust cloud, yelling, " _ over here! _ " when he caught sight of your headlamps. His shot went wide, but Ezra's didn't. 

The older man jettisoned the empty thrower as Inumon came careening forward over Jack's body, her shots not nearly as haphazard as Jack's. Half-blind, you and Ezra ran through the woods while she pursued. 

You finally skidded to a stop behind a large tree, gasping for breath and turning off your headlamp. Ezra began fumbling, like he was looking for something. You heard the whining buzz of the scalpel.

He suddenly said, "If we uncouple, you can run a distraction, opening me up for the backstab." You nodded quickly, already trying to undo the tube. Ezra grabbed your hand, halting you. "Are you  _ sure? _ " He rasped, the concern in his tone causing your eyes to tear up momentarily. "I know that you are-"

The jamming signal blared through your coms again, making Ezra flinch and stiffen in pain at the ear-shattering volume. You, on the other hand, ripped yourself free and slammed your fingers down on your comm-box, killing the radio in your helmet. You then reached over and muted his channels as well, effectively nullifying the blaring jamming. Ezra seemed to stagger at the silence, grabbing onto the tree to steady himself before he turned back to you.

"I can do it!" You assured him, yelling so he could hear you through your helmet. Without the aid of your com, you had to resort to analog measures. "I can do it."

He looked torn for a moment, then leaned down to shove his helmet against yours. "You run fast, and you  _ don't _ stop. You keep plenty of trees between you and her. You come  _ straight _ back here as soon as I make the kill, so we can recouple.  _ Clear _ ?" He demanded, his own voice raised. His eyes met yours fiercely and you nodded, letting him know that you got the message. You switched your filter over into his purifier hurriedly before he could protest or stop you, and then you uncoupled from the tether.

You sprinted off, keeping low as you watched Inumon's headlamps advance through the trees. A shot rang out, but she wasn't aiming at you. It sounded like she was headed for Ezra. 

_ No time like the present _ , you decided, and you quickly threw your head forward to locate the lone piece of Brism. A few shakes later and the gum tumbled against your clear dome for you to scoop up with your tongue. The second the smooth coating hit your mouth it was like something exploded behind your eyes. Chewing furiously, you felt energy surge through your body. Despite your weariness, your dwindling oxygen and your fear, the woods around you flared to new and vibrant life. And through it all strode Inumon, her attention focused wholly on where she thought Ezra was.

You bolted forward, keeping the trees between yourself and her for as long as possible, letting her get as close to Ezra as you dared before you finally lunged at her. The clumsy scuffle of your boots in the thick underbrush obviously alerted the woman to your presence, too late to change course now though. Her body swung around to face you as you charged in.

You hadn't realized she had a bayonet on her thrower. The deadly blade pierced your stomach, your own headlong motion aiding the plunge. The Brism cranked the pain bright, sensations dulled and heightened at the same time. You shakily dropped your hands to the barrel of the rifle, about to  _ try _ and push yourself backwards off the bayonet, but then…

Inumon started cackling at you, more Vayok words you didn't understand laced in with her scornful laughter. It was plain to see that she was mocking you though,  _ mocking _ your pitiful attempt at stopping her. She probably thought you were useless, a  _ useless little floater-- _

_ You're a floater, who the fuck would even care? _

The fledgling pride in your timid belly roared to life like a bonfire at her taunting and you  _ leaned _ into it with every ounce of the Brism burst, slamming your helmet against hers with enough force to stagger the both of you. You didn't recognize your own voice when you screamed, " _ don't you  _ **_fucking_ ** _ laugh at me, bitch! _ " Blood and saliva spattered on the inside of your dome and you gritted your teeth, continuing to bear down on her head with your helmet. 

Her eyes went wide like you had startled her, and she began fighting to free up her thrower from your abdomen. You snapped one arm beneath the barrel, the other above it  _ like you had done a hundred times before to get the rifle away from Damon _ and you managed to jerk it out of her grip with the superior leverage of the bayonet, staggering back a step.

Ezra loomed out of the darkness behind Inumon as the two of you struggled, the man brandishing the laughably-small scalpel with deadly intent. The blade stabbed into the gasket on Inumon's helmet, whirring wildly through the rubber gorget and then piercing the skin beneath it. 

Her maniac gaze landed on your face inches from her own and she  _ shrieked _ , clawing frantically at your suit and then at Ezra as he punched the knife home again and again.

You took another step back, sinking to your knees as you tried to maintain your hold on the gun so it didn't end up doing even  _ more _ damage...

The next thing you knew, you were being eased back against a tree trunk. Ezra was fumbling with your suit, trying to retether the two of you and working  _ around _ the thrower. 

You pawed weakly at his arm and he jolted, staring wide-eyed through his helmet. " _ Go _ ." You rasped, shoving the tube back into his violently-trembling hands. "Go…" His jaw worked and he turned his head away, seemingly to look at Inumon's body. Then back at you. "Leave,  _ dammit! _ " You spat, slamming your fist into his good arm. "Don't let--all of this be f-for  _ nothing! _ "

That appeared to do the trick. Ezra staggered to his feet, grabbed his confiscated pistol from Inumon's corpse and took off towards the fire of the dig site without so much as a goodbye. 

Tears welled up in your eyes and your vision blurred, your body working harder and harder to pull what little oxygen it could from the air left circulating in your suit. Now that the Brism burst had faded you could feel every  _ inch _ of the bayonet, and each quivering, shallow breath served as a painful reminder that you hadn't died  _ just _ yet. Inumon's headlamps were all but blinding, exploding starry across your eyesight every time you blinked back the tears.

You had always assumed, somewhere, deep down, that you would die alone. Being a floater, you had been alone for the majority of your life, and after enduring Damon's noisome company, you had hoped to be solitary for the rest of your days. As you watched Ezra's form dissolve into the haze of your tears, however, you couldn't help but wish that,  _ just this once _ , you didn't have to be alone.


	5. Lambasting Kevva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains vague depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

You thought you heard someone running, heavy boots pounding hard on the ground.  _ Who even has the  _ **_energy_ ** _ for that _ , you wondered idly.

Oxygen abruptly flooded back into your helmet and you inhaled on instinct, hacking and wheezing. The bayonet twitched roughly, making you sob out before some of the pressure on the blade was relieved. 

" _ There _ . Detached it from the fucking thrower. You still with me, gentle soul?" Ezra, it was  _ Ezra _ , talking loudly, tapping your helmet and seeming relieved when you barely opened your eyes once more. "I'm goin' to stabilize the bayonet, you understand me? We can't remove it or we'll do more damage. Have to stabilize with the patcher cream."

"Told y...you to...leave--" you gasped, grabbing desperately at his shoulder. "Miss the--sling...back…"

"Kevva was a martyr, you know." Ezra said suddenly. "A little bit Prometheus, a little bit Jesus. Shot himself into space so others wouldn't fear to follow in his footsteps, to give countless souls the chance to be reforged in booster fire. Always found martyrdom more trouble than it was worth, myself. Living on struck me as the more  _ attractive _ option." He murmured, struggling with your suit.

The only reply you could manage was more of a wet gurgle of confusion.  _ What _ was he even  _ talking _ about?

"Now, we as human beings are taught that self-sacrifice is the loftiest of moral pedestals to stand upon. We are taught that puttin' the needs of others above ourselves is the pinnacle, the  _ quintessential _ desirous trait." He carried on in a pleasant tone, like this was a normal conversation the two of you were having as he poured the antiseptic liquid over your abdomen. 

It burned and stung. You wanted to scream but you couldn't draw the breath, settling for a pitiful whimper.

"I cannot  _ tell _ you how many times I roundly railed against the purported divine will of that miserable martyr when I found myself trapped on this forsaken moon. The  _ last _ thing I wanted was to be slain before I finally got to revel in my spoils, reduced to no more than a cautionary tale of avarice and loss in the annals of time. Lo and behold though, despite all my tribulations, it appears I was not the one in danger of being a sacrificial lamb."

The clear dome of his helmet  _ thud _ ded against your own, and he tried to time your breathing for a moment before he gave up and just clicked the trigger on the patcher gun. You cried out hoarsely in pain and he echoed you with a groan, shaking his head.

"Instead, that malevolent bearded  _ bastard _ sent me a precious gentle soul, one more gracious and generous than any harvest, to shield my worthless body from the slings and arrows of this hostile moon. But I do not accept the debt of another's life so free and easy,  _ especially _ not when it's counted against all my sins." He continued relentlessly, tossing the foam gun aside. "You can urge me until your holy heart stops, yet I refuse to indulge you in your blasted  _ martyrdom _ ." The word was furious, hissed out between his teeth. "You  _ will _ live. If I have to drag you back from Kevva's greedy, graspin' hand myself, I damn well  _ will _ . You have suffered Purgatory long enough, gentle soul." 

With that emphatic declaration he heaved you upright, draping your arm over his shoulder and beginning the slow, tortuous walk back to the mercenary rock jumper. "Ez--ra…" you choked, your legs barely supporting you. "C- _ an't _ \--"

"Hush, gentle soul." He said firmly, struggling to distribute more of your weight onto his shoulders. "I would carry you if I trusted my arm, but regrettably I am not at full-test. All the same, I'm putting you into that  _ fuckin' _ pod even if I have to drag you every accursed step of the way." 

Your fingers dug into his suit and you straightened up marginally. Just enough for him to get a better grip on your body. "M' gonna'-" you coughed, red droplets hitting the dome of your helmet.

"Keep your free hand on that blade, gentle soul. The less damage we do to your internal machinations, the better." 

You obediently curled your glove around the foam-crusted bayonet, stabilizing the protruding weapon with what little strength you had left. You stared down at his leg, trying to get your own steps to match up with his so he didn't trip over the tether tube. You weren't sure whether either of you would be able to get back up if that occurred.

"Almost there." Ezra announced, making your head jerk up. You had been wavering on the edge of unconsciousness, just focusing on keeping your feet moving. 

He dropped your hand onto one of the railings for the pod ladder and you obligingly tried to pull yourself into it after he gave you a boost, ending up essentially throwing your body forward and to the side on the floor of the pod.

Ezra staggered up behind you, fumbling to shift you from your fetal position. "In the seat, gentle soul, we need to strap you in. Can't have loose cargo when we take off." He muttered. 

Your head felt too heavy. You let it loll against your chest while he essentially manhandled you into the passenger seat and snapped the harness around you as best as he could. "M'sorry…" Your voice was barely audible through your helmet. "Can't..."

"You manage those lungs of yours, don't worry about me." He replied tersely, yanking off his helmet and then tearing at the latches on your own. "You just keep breathin'. We'll be out of this in no time, gentle soul, no time at all." 

You nodded dazedly after he pulled the helmet off over your head. "Thank…"

" _ Hush _ , damn it." Ezra rasped, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Hush. Save your energy and keep that bayonet steady. We'll be on that freighter in a tick. Get you to a proper med bay." His voice trembled.

You were vaguely aware that he had strapped in beside you. There was the soft rustle of manual pages, then the deafening rattle of the pod boosters, the thrum of the engines as it broke the atmosphere. Light from Bakhroma's sun poured in through the triangular windows overhead, all but blinding you. 

Ezra weakly stripped your glove and then clasped your fingers across the center console as the freighter appeared, spindly arms of pods hanging suspended in the brilliant green and navy halo of the surrounding cosmos. "We have at  _ last _ been delivered from our toilsome strife." He sighed. "Better days beckon us onward, gentle soul." He raised your hand to his lips, and you felt the brush of his facial hair when he kissed your open palm.

...

You were unsure of how much time had passed. You  _ thought _ you were being removed from the pod, something about getting rushed through the triage protocols. 

An oxygen mask was snapped down over your face, the whirr of an intraosseous needle reaching your ears. Conversations around you faded in and out, random voices discussing your condition. 

Where was Ezra?

" _ If that bayonet had gone half an inch deeper- _ "

" _ I suggest you apply the brakes on that particular intellectual locomotive. _ " You felt your fears ebb at the familiar sound of his drawl. " _ We are running on precious little sleep and I must confess to an  _ **_unhealthy_ ** _ inclination towards impatience when I am deprived of my slumber. Now, my individual trauma can wait until you have available staff, but their wound will fester if it is left much longer _ ." A large hand rested on your forehead, shielding your half-open eyes from the fluorescent lighting. " _ Take care of their potential pneumothorax, doctor, and I will be as docile as a lamb _ ."

"Ez…" you whispered.

" _ Still tryin' to palaver? Gentle soul, now is  _ **_not_ ** _ the time for idle conversation _ ." His hand stroked your forehead as he soothed, " _ Rest now. We did it.  _ **_You_ ** _ did it. _ " 

With his assurance, you closed your eyes.

...

You were confined to a rehabiter chamber for what felt like a short eternity as the freighter made its laborious way back to Central, Puggart Bench and the overcrowded wards that dotted the outskirts.

All you had left  _ physically _ to remind you of your ordeal was a slow-healing wound on your abdomen and muscles that felt like they would never stop aching. You had one hundred percent  _ overdone it _ and, if the resident freighter physician had anything to say regarding the matter, you were  _ incredibly _ lucky to be alive.

The freighter's lung scrubber wasn't exactly on par with the level of sanitation either you  _ or _ Ezra needed, so you were kept on it at all times until you could be transferred to the Puggart Bench medicog. You were grateful to be weathering the travel in the freighter's dingy med bay, as strange as that was to say. You weren't sure how long it would be before you could travel in a pod without feeling  _ deeply _ apprehensive.

Once dropped at Puggart, you barely even got to wave at Ezra (he waved back with a drowsy grin from beneath the oxygen tent) before you were whisked away to a different room and hooked up to something a little more  _ high-test _ . 

Fully purging the dust took literal  _ days _ of treatment. The preliminary scans of your lungs revealed what looked like thick, puffy cotton balls in the place of usual bronchioles. You could only imagine how bad Ezra's lungs must be if that was what  _ yours _ were like.

The rest of your body continued to arduously heal. You spent the hours of solitary treatment quietly drawing on your memo pad. Once that ran out of pages, you began to save the napkins that came with your Pastors slurry. A kind orderly found you an abandoned clipboard and you would balance it on your knees to draw for as long as you were able before your stomach began to protest.

You did your best to not think about the Bakhroma Green moon. It was difficult, but you tried. The lushly poisonous foliage, the Queen's Lair,  _ Damon _ -

Your sleep was fitfully restless, either due to the lingering pain of your wound or the nightmares that hounded you. You were unsure of the last time you had truly enjoyed a good night's sleep.

Once you had been off the scrubber for a full week, Ezra came to visit. You almost didn't recognize him sans the bulk of his suit and helmet, but the brilliant blond Mallen streak that jutted mischievously out from his right temple removed all doubt. He looked  _ much _ better, which was to be expected. Clean food and fresh air had done him wonders.

"Gentle soul!" He exclaimed warmly upon entering your cubicle, his voice rasping slightly, "all those days of good behavior paid off. Your jealous warden has  _ finally _ deemed me worthy of entry into your domain." 

"Good to see you too, Ezra." You replied with a smile, raising an eyebrow at the flowers he carried. "I won't take up much of your time, obviously you've got places to be." What was that weird pang in your chest? Were you  _ jealous? _ Why would you be jealous? 

"Your modesty, while one of your finest qualities, wounds me  _ deeply _ . These are for  _ you _ , gentle soul." Ezra placed a hand over his heart, bowing grandly as he presented you with the bouquet. 

"F-For me? Oh." You felt a little ashamed of your strange jealousy now, fumbling to take the flowers from him. "These are so beautiful, you...you didn't have to, you know." You murmured, burying your nose in the soft petals. 

"What better way to celebrate you bein' on the mend?" He inquired incredulously, pulling up the chair beside your bed. 

"I'm kind of surprised you're still here, honestly." You confessed. 

"Whyever for?"

"Well I just...I assumed you would have set back out in search of the next big thing." You twiddled your fingers, keeping your eyes on the flowers. 

"I am full of surprises, I suppose. Oh! And in that vein." Ezra tugged free a long, flat box from inside the (obviously very new) blazer he wore. "Another surprise."

The box was wrapped simply in plain paper and twine, a bit like all your sketchpads had been. "Ezra-" you began to protest. 

He waved off your words though, gesturing impatiently for you to rip off the paper. "I have been burstin' at the seams to give this to you, gentle soul. Do  _ not _ make me wait one iota longer, I implore you."

Laughing a little at his enthusiasm, you obliged. Your laughter caught in your throat as you turned the brightly-colored box over, the graphics on the front proudly announcing the contents. "This...Th-This is…" You stammered, swallowing hard. "I...Ezra-"

"It's the draw-pad! Y'know, the one we discussed. Brand new, hot off the line." Ezra looked insanely pleased with himself, fidgeting in the seat. "I saw it and I knew you needed it."

"Ezra, this is too much." You tried to sound like you disapproved, but you were relatively certain your fingers reverently tracing the brilliant logo gave you away. Just the box alone looked so  _ crisp _ , the edges still sharp instead of crushed in and rounded with age.

"Now, this gift  _ does _ come with a request." He drawled from his spot beside your bed. You glanced up, that old wariness creeping back in. "I want you to familiarize yourself with this tool. Not sure how long it'll take. I have faith in your tenacity and ability to adapt, however. Once you're confident in your skill, I would be most obliged if you would consider a solicitation of partnership. " 

"Part...nership?" You repeated, thoroughly confused.

Ezra nodded. "Yes, gentle soul. I am penning a semi-fictitious memoir and it would add a certain... _ gravitas _ if your sketches graced the pages as well, you understand."

You fairly erupted with excitement, "I would love to!" Your enthusiasm jerked to a sudden stop as you remembered just  _ where _ you were, and how much debt you were probably in. "But I...I can't." You finished sadly, stroking the brightly-colored illustrations on the front of the draw-pad box one last wistful time before you pressed it back into his hands. "I'm sorry Ezra, I need to hurry up and heal so I can hurry up and find another job, work through paying off this treatment bill--"

"Gentle soul, I don't think you have a full grasp of your situation." Ezra interjected. "You are an  _ incredibly _ rich individual." You stared at him, not entirely registering his words. "Have you truly forgotten just how  _ much _ of the Queen your deft little hands plundered?"

"That's not  _ mine _ , that's y-"

"Kevva above, gentle soul. If not for your steady skinnin' and de-blisterin', we wouldn't have secured a damn thing." Ezra leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers. "I turned a handsome profit as well, mind you. I am quite comfortably off with my harvest as it is. But you, gentle soul,  _ you _ …" He cleared his throat. "I took the liberty of arrangin' an account for you while you were indisposed."

"There was enough for an  _ account? _ " You squeaked. 

Ezra's laugh sounded raw. "The wonder in your eyes! I wish you could see yourself. Give me a moment, I'll pull up the numbers." He had apparently gotten one of those new, touchscreen Servs. He didn't even need a  _ cable! _ You watched apprehensively as he tapped away at the tablet, swiping through a few menus. 

When he tilted the screen to show you your account, you were relatively certain you had gone into shock. You knew your mouth was opening and closing, but you couldn't seem to form any words.

"I daresay you  _ may _ be able to afford your hospital bill." The man said dryly after watching you gawk for several long minutes. "And perhaps a few meager indulgences on top of that."

"That's...that  _ can't _ be right." You whispered, reaching out to touch the numbers. Ezra chuckled when your clumsy fingers accidentally brought up another menu, the older man easily dismissing it. 

"It is indeed correct, gentle soul. The exchange was the cleanest I've ever done,  _ and _ sported the highest rates I've ever encountered. It seems we returned from the Bakhroma Green in the nick of time, in more ways than one." 

"Ezra, that's...I-I've never even  _ dreamed _ of having so many points. I…" you trailed off, biting your lip. Tears welled up in your eyes and, for the first time since Damon had been killed, you started to cry in earnest.

Ezra's hand rested on your arm after a moment and you let yourself be eased into his embrace, sobbing against his shoulder. "Steady now, gentle soul. You just let it all out. It's over, you understand?" He soothed, cupping the back of your head. "Over and done with. Your perdition is at its end. You are free from those terrible burdens." 

"I just...this doesn't even feel  _ real _ ." You hiccupped. "I feel like I'm g-gonna' wake up in that pod all over ag-gain."

"I know that sensation all too well. My sleep is poor, my dreams fraught with dark recollections." Ezra admitted quietly. "Safety and stability are luxuries I have not been able to afford for many years. Now that I have them, I am...unsure of what to do with them." He sighed, his chin resting on the top of your head. "We have endured  _ so much worse _ than having a little good fortune, yet upon bein' confronted with it, we do not feel worthy."

You nodded into his shoulder. It was no surprise that he would know exactly how to put into words what you had been feeling. You jolted abruptly when you realized  _ which _ shoulder you were molesting. "Oh! Your arm, I'm so-"

"Don't you fret, gentle soul." He released you and carefully slid his arm out of his blazer, the barest wince betraying him as he flexed the limb freely. "I'm on the mend, with a... _ zeal _ I did not realize I possessed. The matron in charge of my circulatory rehabilitation seems hell-bent on gettin' me to break a sweat." Ezra sounded rueful. "I'm just glad I can  _ breathe _ unaided once more. I'll never take my lungs for granted ever again."

...

You doused the eggs with the brilliant orange sauce, shoveling a forkful into your mouth and groaning in appreciative delight. 

"Now  _ normally _ , condiments are a compliment to the dish." Ezra delicately gestured at your orange-stained plate with his fork. "With you however, condiments appear to be the main course." He teased. Ezra had offered to take you out for breakfast on the morning of your release, he called it  _ a daring escape from the confines of modern medicine _ . Hence your current locale. You  _ had _ , however, insisted that the two of you split the bill.

"After so long eating Pastors Calori-pouches and bits bars, I...I need the color just as much as I need the flavor, y'know?" You mumbled around your mouthful. "My tastebuds are all brand new again."

"I meant no disrespect, gentle soul." Ezra reached across the table with a paper napkin and you jerked back on reflex, laughing awkwardly as you tried to play off your sharp reaction. He cocked his head, eyebrows drawn quizzically tight. "I said I would not ask, and I will not break that promise." He murmured, tucking the napkin into your limp hand instead. "If ever there is anything I can do though, anything I can say to...to  _ ease _ these burdens you carry on your body, all you need do is ask."

This was far too serious of a topic to be discussing in a greasy diner with bright orange hot sauce dripping off your chin. 

Ezra skewered a bite of flapjack with his fork, dipped it in the vibrant condiment that smeared your dish and then popped it into his mouth. You gawked at him as he chewed, his eyes idly roaming the diner. You could take the man out of the communal mining canteen, but you couldn't take the communal mining canteen out of the man, you supposed. You remembered all too well the stands worth of others pilfering off your own tray.

"I know you are no doubt eager twice over to get your mitts on my draft and begin your creative process, but I must insist we allow you the time to reacclimate to city livin'." He changed the subject deftly, his fingers drumming on the scarred diner table as he spoke. "Elsewise you may just end up sealin' yourself into a studio like a cask of Amontillado and drawin' the day away." His eyes wandered back to your face. "Have you given any more consideration to which ward you might prefer to hang your hat in?" 

You gulped down a bite of toast before shaking your head. "I...I looked through the listings two days ago but I don't...I mean, I know I can  _ afford _ to, but…" you trailed off. 

"Livin' alone holds no allure." Ezra's tone was sympathetic. He steepled his hands on the tabletop. "Permit me to suggest an alternative, gentle soul." You inclined your head. "We are two wandering drifters that, through sheer grit and a healthy sprinkling of providence, have managed to slog through hell together and survive without growing to loathe each other's company." 

You stared at him blankly, sponging the sauce off your chin. Ezra settled back in the booth, his body language enviably relaxed. 

"I am more than willin' to open my humble abode to you. For a few stands or simply until you find yourself despising my lugubrious company." He held up a hand as you opened your mouth. "I offer without any malice or intent of predation, gentle soul. I know that the return to non-floater spaces is not often an easy one, and I strongly suspect that you have been preyed upon in the past."

"I know you're not like that." You blurted out, flushing immediately afterwards.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "I am grateful you don't lump my gregarious self in with the refuse, gentle soul."

"I just...I mean you've done so much for me already." You continued helplessly. "I'm in your debt, Ezra. By a lot."

"Nonsense." He scoffed. "Without  _ you _ , we never would have escaped the Green! If we are to speak of debts and debtors, I must reason that I am still in  _ yours _ . Shooting me would have been a ludicrously simple task, as I pointed out when we were still in that Kevva-forsaken place. Never mind the steady-handed salvage of my arm, your heroic duel with Inumon-"

"Oh yes, nothing more heroic than getting three-quarters killed by a grungy Krebine bayonet." You interrupted him dryly. " _ While _ hopped up on Brism."

Ezra chuckled. "Modest as ever!" He quickly sobered, his eyes serious. "My lodgings are more than adequate to house another individual, should you decide to grace me with your presence."

...

You didn't really  _ have _ any possessions, which made your move relatively straightforward. All you had was your helmet, your suit, your underclothes and the contents of the pockets of said suit. Mercifully, everything had been decontaminated, so you didn't have anything to fear from throwing your familiar kit back on.

"I will offer you a change of clothes, but! We must venture out and acquire you new attire at your earliest convenience." Ezra insisted, already rummaging through his laughably barren closet even as you protested. "I doubt you wish to eternally linger in my dubious, threadbare garb." He suddenly stopped, snapping his fingers. "Wait. No.  _ Kevva _ , we can order on the Serv. Unless you prefer the torment of physical fitting rooms?" He queried with a grimace, making you laugh.

You found yourself curled up on the couch several hours later, clad in one out of his two 'casual' shirts and your thermal leggings. You held the Serv tablet carefully in your hands as Ezra swiped through page after page of various clothing, the precocious man enthusiastically supporting any item you expressed interest in. 

"This will at least tide you over until you feel more comfortable wanderin' the streets of the Pug again. We should also find you some underthings and socks." He mused, tapping the appropriate area on the screen to bring up the search option. "I'll leave you to  _ that _ , gentle soul." You hesitantly took over from him and he rose from the couch, stretching with a quiet groan. "Tea? I feel  _ inordinately _ cozy right now." He offered cordially. 

"Mmhm." You nodded, a little distracted by the waves of choices available to you. Granted, at this stage all you needed were a few essentials. Undergarments that would hold up in the wash, good socks to ward off the chill. "Should I get shoes too, or wait until I go out for that?" You called.

"I feel it would be prudent to dally on that particular front." Ezra drawled from the kitchen. "It's best to ensure a proper fit in person if at all possible. Though, I hardly need to tell  _ you _ that." He stuck his head back out through the doorway after a moment. "Toiletries tab should be the second to last on the right."

"I mean, I took the toothbrush from the hospital so I'm probably fine for-" His raucous laughter interrupted your reasoning and you scowled at him, uncertain of  _ what _ could be so funny. 

"You've got more funds than most people would see in six lifetimes, and yet you purloined the toothbrush from your  _ hospital room _ ." Ezra managed to say after a few moments. "Floater habits die hard, eh gentle soul?"

Against your will, you felt giggles bubbling in your chest and you huffed out a breath, trying to ward them off. " _ Shush _ , you... _ you! _ " You retorted lamely, losing your battle with your own laughter. "Stop judging me, your moral high ground is  _ subterranean _ ."

" _ Subterranean _ , I  _ like _ that!" Ezra exclaimed, his eyes shining with good humor as he passed you a plain white mug full to the brim with tea. "I'll have to pilfer that for my illustrious tale. Give you full credit, naturally."

You smiled at him over your mug. "You'd  _ better _ ."

He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "I am a man of subterranean high ground, true enough. But I am a man of my word!"


	6. Aquiline Artistry

Ezra displayed your battered helmet alongside his own on the mantelpiece above the faux fireplace, the two domes leaned into one another as if engaged in private conversation. 

Most evenings found both of you in the main room of his modest apartment, him pacing back and forth as he recounted various portions of his 'semi-fictitious' memoir that were giving him trouble, while you drew and offered input where you hoped it might be beneficial. 

"My editor, Kevva bless him, dares to insinuate that I am too ponderously wordy for the average book market." Ezra bemoaned one evening, dramatically collapsing into a sprawl of limbs on the couch alongside you. " _ 'Get to the point, Ezra! _ ' As if it is that simple, to just trim the fat off the prize cut of loin without regard for the flavor it provides!" He spat indignantly. 

"You  _ are _ very…" you searched through all the fanciful words you had picked up from him, finally settling on, " _ verbose _ . Almost to a fault. Sometimes I wonder if you're  _ deliberately _ taking three times as long to say something."

"If I am to be  _ prolific _ with my speech, I would rather be saying somethin' that people are interested in listenin' to." Ezra retorted, sounding somewhat betrayed over you taking his editor's side. "I've endured countless lectures from individuals with some form of power over me and  _ none _ of them possessed a modicum of eloquence. Their words were weapons of the bluntest sort: hackneyed and ramshackle and  _ detestable _ ." His voice dipped lower, gravelly and reverent. "I would rather a singular articulate quote to a  _ thousand _ plain, lifeless,  _ uninventive _ platitudes. Words are all I've ever  _ had _ for most of my existence, gentle soul. They are a precious commodity gleaned not from the treacherous climes of some deadly moon, but from the stolen tomes and salvaged papers of civilization long past." 

He rubbed his temples, obviously exasperated. You, on the other hand, were a bit flushed. His rants were always a joy to witness, whether you wanted to admit it or not. There was something about Ezra getting riled up that you found mesmerizing.

"I apologize, gentle soul. You are not here to be my sounding board, and I shall not treat you as such." He said finally, dragging his hands down his face. "I will not subject you to my bouts of tempestuous querulousness."

"Hey, you can talk to me all you want! I just wish I could contribute usefully to your musing, that's all. I'm not nearly as well-spoken, I'd hate to use a word wrong." You replied, grimacing. "Like querulous...querulousness." 

"It means I am peeved. Cantankerous."

" _ You? _ " You gasped in mock-surprise. 

He groaned, "I did not realize how astute you were." You spotted the corner of his mouth twitching upwards and you knew you had him, nudging your elbow into his side until he surrendered and gave you a lazy grin. 

"Ezra, what does ' _ mercado _ ' mean?"

He jerked upright out of his slump at that, looking confused. "Where did you hear that word?" 

"From...you?" You replied uncertainly. "It was while we were still...um, in the tent, I had just finished with your arm and you were looking through my sketchbook." His blank stare prompted you to continue, "you saw a picture I drew of the west dock and you-"

" _ Oh! _ " Ezra gasped, his eyes brightening with comprehension. He bounded off the couch, vanishing into his room. You sat there, wholly bewildered, until he reemerged struggling into his coat. He seized your hands, tugging you upright and then kissing your forehead. "You precious, beautiful woman!" He praised. "I am so glad you reminded me of our blood pact, sworn over the battered salvage of my arm on that accursed moon."

"Uh."  _ Precious. Beautiful _ . "Blood...pact?"

"Hurry up, hurry  _ up _ , put on your coat!" Ezra demanded. You imagined you could see his blond streak fairly bristling with excitement. "We  _ must _ go."

"Go?"

"To the  _ mercado! _ " Again with that gratuitous, flamboyant roll of the 'r'. You were beginning to suspect that he was enjoying himself. 

"What,  _ now? _ " You asked, allowing yourself to be essentially spun into your long coat. "But it's dark out-"

"All the more reason to rush! If we aren't expedient, they may be closed when we get there!" He grabbed your hand once again. "Kevva waits for no man, gentle soul!"

...

You had never run the length of the Pug's west dock without some incredibly valid, logical reason. So the fact that you were currently running because you were being giddily dragged along by a large man who was  _ far _ too invested in deep fried food spoke volumes toward the sheer amount of the things that had changed in your life.

"Wait, wait-" You finally had to stop him, your side aching from your haphazard sprint. Ezra halted, appearing confused as you wheezed for air. You clung to his hand a bit tighter than you meant to.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly. 

"C-Can't-" you gasped. "Hurts. Gimme' a second."

"I--oh.  _ Oh! _ Gentle soul, why didn't you voice your discomfort earlier?!" He erupted in a panic. "Sit down, sit, I'll-"

"No no, I'm okay. It's just a stitch." You tried to calm him, but he was having none of it.

"I must insist that you sit down,  _ immediately _ ." He implored, sounding distraught. "If I have caused you harm, if your wound-"

"Hey, I'm  _ okay _ ." You interrupted him firmly. "I'm just a little less...in-shape, you know? Tender still." 

"I feel like a  _ tyrant _ , I offer my most sincere reparations." 

" _ Ezra _ , oh my gods. You're so dramatic." You half-laughed, your breath catching when he kissed your knuckles in contrition. "We can keep going, I just can't  _ run _ across the entire dock."

"If you are  _ certain _ , gentle soul?" Ezra asked, gesturing back the way you came and arching his brows. "We can always jettison this fanciful excursion, should you require a reprieve."

You shook your head, tugging on his hand. "Nope, we're already down here. Keep one foot moving. If we get there and they're closed,  _ then _ I'll need a reprieve. To mourn my loss." 

"Too true!" He agreed, mindfully shortening his strides. "It's not far now. Once we arrive, promise me you'll rest?"

"If you feed me, absolutely." You joked.

"I would love nothin' more than the opportunity to dote upon you, gentle soul."

You laughed for real this time, assuming he was playing along with your jibe. When he didn't join in, you tucked your chin down into the collar of your jacket in embarrassment. "Ezra, you...you take care of me all the time." You pointed out, feeling  _ shy _ of all things.

"You are my partner." He answered simply. 

_ Partner _ . "I...Damon, h-he-" You began to speak, but then choked off at the last second. 

Ezra stopped dead and you closed your eyes, scolding yourself for starting something you  _ knew _ you wouldn't finish. "Martyr's  _ malfeasance _ ." The brown-haired man cursed softly.

"I'm...I'm sorry," you hurried to apologize. "I don't know why I...just forget I said anything, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the fun." 

"Every time I hear about him, he strikes me more and more as a man that I should have taken my sweet time disposin' of." Ezra snarled in that furiously cheery tone, his words stoking the tiny fire that you sheltered in your stomach. 

Your grip on his hand tightened after a moment. "He didn't deserve the effort."

"Do not apologize for the shortcomings of others, gentle soul. I reiterate that I am here to listen if you need me. Though I warn you, I  _ may _ not be able to keep from interruptin'." Ezra's eyes had gone dark with thought, his expression distressingly grim. "I am, at the end of the day, a loquacious  _ fool _ ." He perked up after a moment, pausing in front of a brightly-lit open air market. "Ah, and here we are! It appears that luck is with us, gentle soul, they do not close for another hour. Shall we fulfill our pact?"

The rest of your evening out was spent (intentionally or not, though you had your suspicions) effectively chasing off the shadow that recalling Damon had cast over you. Despite your protests, Ezra  _ did _ end up feeding you half an order's worth of the delectable little sopaipillas, one by one.

...

When the rainy season hit, storms whipped through Puggart Bench and its wards with all the delicacy of a green prospector getting their hands on their first pull. It wasn't so much of an issue during the day; the sound of Ezra diligently expounding to himself usually muffled the howling winds or pouring rain. Late at night however, you couldn't help but imagine that the rumble of thunder was the pod striking the atmosphere, or that the rattling of the rain on the windowpanes was thrower fire. Your dreams turned frantic and riddled with nightmares. You even tried keeping your bedroom light on at one point to combat it, but it just amplified the shadows and gave your mind more fuel for its inventive fire.

You struggled in solitude for a good few nights, until one evening when you finally couldn't endure any longer. Surely he wouldn't mind, you would be quiet.

You slipped from your bed, bringing your pillow along as you padded down the hall to his room. Just as you reached for the keypad, the door slid open.

Ezra stood in front of you, a thin blanket and one of his pillows underneath his arm. He stared down at you. You stared up at him, your own pillow clutched tightly to your chest. "I..." he coughed awkwardly. "Er, the howling gale outside has...my nerves a bit... _ frayed _ . I merely-"

"Oh thank  _ gods _ , I'm so glad it wasn't just me." You felt like you would burst with relief. "I was coming to ask if I could sleep in your room."

"What a novel coincidence! I was about to throw myself upon your mercies as well." Ezra winced at the thunder that boomed overhead after he spoke. "An expedient compromise is in order, gentle soul. We will adjourn to my quarters for this particular endeavor."

He stepped aside with a little bow and you entered the room, going to curl up on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Gentle soul, I think you've done enough proverbial  _ listenin' at the teacher's feet _ to last a lifetime. Make yourself comfortable." He urged, spreading his blanket back out on the bed. "If we must weather this storm in conjunction, I would prefer you were nearer rather than farther."

You opened your mouth to protest and the wind whipped the rain against the windows with a hollow rattle, sounding for all the world like a thrower shot at range. Your fists clenched on your thighs. 

_ Damon isn't here. It's just Ezra. It's only Ezra _ .

Ezra turned to face you after meticulously smoothing out the wrinkles in his blanket, his forced smile and hollow eyes reminding you that you weren't the  _ only _ one haunted by ghosts of your past. He extended a hand and you grabbed hold, letting him pull you up off the floor.

You fell into him, burying your face in his chest for a selfish moment. "Thank you." You whispered, uncertain if he even heard you over the rumble of thunder.

Ezra pressed his lips to your hairline and then ushered you underneath the blankets. He was achingly chaste, as though he thought you might bolt if he showed any sort of blatant affection. Truly, you might have if it had been any other person. His tentative touch rested on your wrist for a moment before he laced his fingers together with yours.

"Your proximity is a balm to my troubled thoughts, gentle soul." He murmured. "You turn my mind to poetic wanderings; dalliances in sun-dappled clearings, rain that does not make me fear for my life." Ezra sighed, the noise barely audible. "All too often I am back there in my dreams; suffering mutiny, I am left to decompose until a gentle soul comes and pulls me up out of the weeds."

"I have nightmares about Damon." You confessed softly. 

The grip he had on your fingers tightened ever so slightly. "I said I would not ask, and I will not tarnish that promise. I am here, gentle soul." His eyes searched your own, forehead furrowed with concern. "I have never trusted someone as I trust you. I have never...you  _ fought _ alongside me, you placed your life in my hands, despite-" He paused, swallowing thickly. "You have earned  _ all _ the time you might ever need. If it is mine to give, it is already yours."

His words, unwavering and slow, were what pushed you over the edge. In a voice that trembled and eventually broke, you finally told him everything. You held nothing in reserve, the terrible stories of all those nights in the pod tumbling out of you one after the other. You were so  _ tired _ of carrying everything in silence, and talking about it...it was as though it made it all  _ real _ . Tangible. Something that you could finally release.

Ezra was surprisingly still through the whole endeavor, the normally-animated man obviously reining himself in. The only indication of his own mental state was the way he occasionally rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you spoke about particularly trying instances. 

"So  _ this _ is the explanation." He said hoarsely once you lapsed into silence once more. "This is the trauma that you bear upon your precious, gentle soul. I...You've held it  _ so _ tightly for so long, even though it wounds you. What has changed?"

"I found you." You replied bluntly. It was nonsensically simple to say, but it was true. He inhaled sharply. "You could have killed me, but instead-"

"I  _ couldn't _ have." Ezra denied, shaking his head. "I saw you and while I knew I could play the  _ part _ of the villain, I couldn't have...I  _ wouldn't _ do anythin' to you. If not simply because you didn't slaughter me where I stood, then when you told me you had that kit and you almost broke my jaw after I startled you." He worked his jaw for a moment, like he still felt the echo of your head slamming into it. "And that man, the Sader, tryin' to tempt me into tradin' you in like  _ livestock _ …"

"Because of everything that happened to me before, I...I panicked. I shouldn't have. I should have trusted you."

Ezra shook his head. "You had every right. I apologize for makin' you feel as though I would have accepted that pittance. I should have discussed everythin' with you beforehand." Lightning flashed nearby and thunder boomed, making you flinch sharply. Ezra urged you closer, his ragged shirt pressing to your cheek as you hid your face in his chest. " _ Martyr's malfeasance _ , your tenderness carves the heart out of me." He whispered. "You make me wish I was a reputable individual."

You started to apologize and he waved it off, stroking the back of your head and lulling you to sleep.

Despite the comfort his proximity brought you, the nightmares still came. You woke up panicking, as you often did, struggling away from the grip of the man beside you. He grunted and reached out to switch on the bedside table lamp.  _ Ezra _ . It was just Ezra. You scolded yourself for your reaction, beginning to apologize again. But he simply rolled over and pressed his forehead to yours, humming in his throat sleepily. 

Your fingers tangled in his shirt as you slowly relaxed against him and he mumbled, " _ In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn _ ," brown eyes already half-lidded again. He sounded like he was reciting something, the words slurred with exhaustion, " _ In my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight _ ." 

You closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and letting it soothe you back into a doze.

" _ For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you _ …"

…

His right hand had some minor nerve damage, which was to be expected. The infection had crept deep. You noticed a distinct lack of buttons on a majority of his new clothing, zipper pulls apparently easier to operate left-handed. 

As the storms grew worse though, so too did his hand. It would occasionally seize up in bad weather, which unfortunately was  _ all the time _ during the rainy season. Ezra was thoroughly miserable, though he attempted to hide it. The rapid progress on editing his memoir slowed to a grinding crawl as he pecked away one-handed, keeping his right secured in a brace for most of the time.

"Kevva  _ damn _ it." He swore one grey morning, struggling fiercely with the tie around his neck. He was supposed to meet with his publisher and he always tried to dress the part.

"Hey," You yawned from the kitchen doorway, "you okay?" 

"Gentle soul I must  _ beg _ your assistance, I will be  _ late! _ " Ezra pleaded from the bathroom, his tone distressed. 

You left your mug on the counter, stifling another yawn as you slipped into the bathroom and batted his hands away from his neck. "Hold still." You mumbled, barely awake. His fingers dug into the sink on either side of you as you worked. When you glanced up you saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears, his gaze fixed determinedly on his own reflection in the mirror. "It's okay to be upset, you know."

His jaw worked and he swallowed hard, obviously disagreeing but unable to vocalize it.

"I got it. All done." You soothed, patting the knot flat. "You won't be late. Be sure to check your fly." His eyes widened in panic and his hands flew to his zipper, making you burst out laughing. "Not  _ now _ , Ezra! When you  _ get _ there!" You grinned, playfully bumping your knuckles into his stomach just above his belt. 

Ezra's chuckle was a little watery, but you chose to ignore it to let him think he was saving face. "What would I do without you, gentle soul? Wander the streets half-dressed with my placket splayed, I imagine." He mused, pressing a fond kiss to your forehead. "Now, Kevva waits. I will return presently. I believe it would be prudent for you to begin amassin' your sketches. We seem to be in the final stages of pre-production."

"Isn't it exciting?" You asked brightly.

"I am nervous enough to void my stomach." Ezra admitted. He squeezed your hand tightly. "I wish you could come with me, gentle soul. You make me feel at ease."

"You should have woken me up earlier, then!" 

"You  _ would _ have come with me?" He sounded surprised, running his hands through his unruly hair in an effort to smooth it down. "These meetings are so  _ toilsome _ . At least if you were there, my publisher might spare me his tedious lectures." His blond streak sprang back up once his hands had passed, continuing its perennial goal of sticking out at a rakish angle.

You reached up to gently tug on the unruly little tuft of hair, smiling at him. "Suffering is no fun if you're doing it alone."

"Misery does indeed love its company." He sighed, his hand shifting up to cup your own on his temple. "These hands of yours, I..." he paused, grimacing in pain and flexing his own fingers. " _ Dammit _ , I…"

"I'll be here when you get back." You said simply. "Just like any other day."

Ezra's eyes were dark with thought as he stared down at you, the silence stretching almost  _ uncomfortably _ long. "I...of course. Yes." He replied, his voice quiet. 

You weren't expecting the call from him several hours later. You were  _ just _ tucking into your lunch when your headset began to chime and you scrambled across the kitchen to grab it. "Yes, oh esteemed roommate?" You greeted him in the usual manner, smiling even though he couldn't see you.

" _ Gentle soul, are you busy? _ " 

You stared longingly at your lunch. "I was about to eat. What's up?"

" _ He wants to see your sketches. _ "

Your heart dropped. You weren't sure  _ why _ , it wasn't as if you hadn't anticipated needing to have your own work checked over. Deep down you  _ had _ hoped they would have more important things to consider, but it couldn't be helped. "What,  _ now? _ "

Ezra's words were strangely clipped, so different from his usual flowery speech. " _ I'll be returnin' shortly, if you're amenable? _ "

"Absolutely, absolutely. I'll get...I'll gather everything up." You hurriedly put your plate back into the cooler. "Are you okay?" 

" _ He has been more abrasive than usual, but I anticipated as much _ ." He sighed raggedly and you heard the sound of the starter. " _ I've been out of sorts since this mornin' _ ." He confessed. " _ I am uncertain as to why. Perhaps it's simply the weight of my own mortality catchin' up to me _ ."

Your hands stilled in the process of shoving all your hard copies together. "Ezra, did something happen?"

" _ Nothin' aside from my immaculate personage being stained with impotence in the most  _ **_mundane_ ** _ task imaginable _ ." Ezra griped.

"Don't  _ scare _ me like that." You scolded him. "I understand you're upset, but please don't use words like  _ mortality _ . Gets me nervous."

" _ Fear not, gentle soul. I'll plague you for a good few years yet. _ " He teased. " _ I am simply mourning the loss of a certain autonomy. The rain will not last forever, but while it lingers I imagine my moods shall be as grim as a graveyard. _ "

"You'll have to try harder than that, you... _ poetically _ dour thing, you." You retorted dryly, shoving your hard copies into your unused portfolio. His laughter was loud in your ear. You  _ loved _ when he laughed like that, all bright and startled like you had surprised it out of him.

You loved a lot of things about him, if you were being honest.

…

His publisher was a man named Thomas Anglio. He was in his late fifties, purportedly had no sense of humor and wore suits that were immaculately tailored.

The man's lack of humor was probably due to the stress of his job, you reasoned charitably. Managing so many aspiring authors couldn't be an easy feat, especially when he also had to juggle a certain  _ querulous _ someone. At least you knew Ezra was paying him generously.

The secretary waved Ezra on tiredly, already reaching for the next Serv tablet before he was even done signing the both of you in. 

You trailed along behind him as he strode into Mr. Anglio's office, the dark-haired man the picture of easy confidence. "I present my illustrious, illustrative companion." Ezra introduced you grandly as Mr. Anglio rose from behind his desk. "Gentle soul, this is Mister Thomas Anglio, a stalwart friend and a  _ fiercely _ fashionable silver fox."

"You flatter me, Ezra." Thomas sighed, shaking your hand. "Please, take a seat and show me what you have prepared."

You obliged nervously, your hands trembling slightly as you undid your first bundle of sketches. "I believe what Ezra wanted was to have them sort of...scattered through the book at key points. Headers for each chapter, as well." You spread the pages out on the desk and Thomas leaned forward to examine them. 

"Ezra, you are not writing a  _ children's _ book." He pointed out practically. "The subject matter of this...strangely-realistic  _ fiction _ of yours is  _ decidedly _ adult."

"I am wholly convinced that my tale will not be half as impactful without their sketches, Mr. Anglio." Ezra insisted firmly. 

Thomas groaned, rubbing his temples. "At least I know you're not doing this just to pad the final page count." He settled back in his chair, leafing through the piles of sketches. You had tried to separate them out by chapter, though due to Ezra's constant revisions you were certain some of them were out of place. "You understand we will not be using all of these, correct?" Anglio seemed relieved when you nodded hurriedly.

"I thought it would be better to have too many than too few." You explained quietly. 

"You have quite the knack for drawing." He mused, lingering on one stack in particular. "Your portraits of Ezra are remarkable."

You heard Ezra swallow loudly beside you. "Portraits…?" The former prospector echoed tentatively.

Your brain ran back to you scrambling to collect all your sketches, shutting your eyes in silent panic as you realized you must have shuffled in the  _ extra _ ones you hadn't meant to bring along.

"Yes, these appear to be for the portion of the story where our brave hero barters with a mercenary gang for safe passage off the moon. If I'm recalling correctly, of course." Mr. Anglio slid the pile of sketches to Ezra, who snatched them up  _ immediately _ . 

You saw his brown eyes go wide and you quickly ducked your head, busying yourself with pretending to sort through the groups of sketches. This was what you got for being disorganized! There were only supposed to be one or two from that scene!

The rest of the meeting was spent whittling down the groups of sketches to two per chapter, or three if they were small enough. Thomas also politely requested that you retool a few things, " _ this woman's helmet looks dangerously close to that inquisitor's from the Second Illumination. The last thing any of us want is to be sued by a failed monarchy _ ."

You would say that the meeting went well, but you were so busy dreading being alone with Ezra again that it was all a blur. You just  _ knew _ that your copious amounts of sketches focused on him would be subject to thorough questioning. And well they should be, it was borderline  _ obsessive _ .

The jut of his jaw, the strong profile of his aquiline nose, the streak of blond above his right temple...all lovingly captured time and again. With  _ and _ without the helmet. 

You were certain you would be lucky to escape unscathed, waiting in fear for the proverbial pot to boil over. 

...

"All you needed to do was  _ ask _ , gentle soul." Ezra finally drawled after watching you anxiously wring your hands for the majority of the ride back to Ward Twenty-Seven. "Had I known that you wished so  _ fervently _ to render me artistically, I would have happily sat for hours that you might properly capture my  _ magnanimous _ visage."

"Please,  _ please _ don't be upset." You begged, your fists tight in your lap. "I'll move out, okay? I'll leave and...and you'll never have to see me again. I'll send you the revised story sketches over the Serv, I'll-" His hand reached for your leg over the center console and you almost jumped out of your skin. "Wait, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't-"

"Gentle soul, I am not aggrieved in the slightest." Ezra assured you quietly. " _ Breathe _ . You seem ready to go to pieces." He rubbed your thigh soothingly, back and forth. "Breathe."

"You...you're not angry with me?" You asked tentatively. And really, you ought to have established that from your time in the Green! 

Angered Ezra was a looming thundercloud, he was magma barely contained by fragile crust. His fury, though an absolute  _ force of nature _ , dissipated as soon as it arrived, like the outbursts wearied him too much to perpetuate and maintain. Damon had seethed and resurrected his anger whenever the mood struck him, so it was odd to engage with someone who seemed to deem the emotion more trouble than it was worth. You  _ knew _ that the man currently in the driver's seat was a hundred times more likely to launch into a woebegone soliloquy about how tenuous material possessions were if he spilled tea on his shirt. But old habits died hard; you couldn't seem to keep yourself from getting wound up.

" _ Far _ from it! You capture my countenance in a way that is decidedly more flatterin' than any mirror." Ezra tilted his head. "I am...envious of the man you have drawn." He admitted softly. "I wish that he and I were one and the same."

You weren't quite sure what to say. At least he wasn't angry. Or he  _ said _ he wasn't. If anything, he sounded...sad. "What do you mean?" You asked, your brow furrowed as you recalled what he had said the night you shared his bed.

_ You make me wish I was a reputable individual. _

Ezra shrugged, sighing, "Nothin' at all, gentle soul. The rain is just makin' me morose, I'm afraid. I'll be glad to be home again."

_ Home _ .

"Want me to make some tea when we get home?"

The soft smile he directed your way had no business settling in your stomach the way that it did. "Of course! You are somehow better at makin' it than I, a true conundrum considering how long I toiled away to achieve my technique." 

You almost didn't notice when his hand cautiously returned to your thigh. 

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I wanted to take the time to let all of you know just how much you mean to me. I know that the world is kind of a mess at the moment, so I'd like to thank all of you for being here, for reading and enjoying. I hope that I can provide you some sort of mental escape, even if it's only for a little while. 
> 
> Please stay safe, please social distance, please drink that water.
> 
> (This isn't the end of the story or anything, I just realized that I usually get sappy on Tumblr so I figured AO3 could handle some feels too)


	7. Departure And Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment deals briefly with perceived self-worth, and contains certain dialogue/terminology/viewpoints that may be detrimental to individuals who have suffered emotional, sexual, or physical abuse. Stay safe!]

Acquiring a first edition of  _ anything _ in this day and age had never been a simple task, so it was awe-inspiring to have a book that was not  _ only _ a first edition, but one that your artwork graced the pages of.

You stared at the cover for longer than you meant to, your fingers rubbing over the embossed name that sat small and unassuming beneath Ezra's lavishly showy pseudonym.  _ With illustrations by _ …

You almost felt like your ordinary moniker was out of place, but after looking at it for a moment, you decided it was  _ exactly _ where it belonged.

"I am about to be overcome with emotion." Ezra informed Thomas in a hushed tone. 

The publisher heaved a heavy sigh at the other man's antics before getting to his feet, his hand outstretched. A small smile played over his mouth, probably one of relief to  _ finally _ be free of your companion. "You've done it. Congratulations. It debuts on the digital platforms tomorrow, and physical copies ship next week." 

Ezra shook his hand rapidly, then turned to you. "I...I am rendered speechless." He whispered.

"I don't know if  _ anything _ could claim that lofty honor." You couldn't resist teasing him and he grinned broadly. 

He rested his forehead against your own momentarily, ever cautious not to crowd you. "I am  _ truly _ a better man for having known you, gentle soul." He murmured fervently. He took your hands, the book clasped tightly between the two of you. "These hands that have helped me in the mornings, that have drawn the man I  _ could _ have been, that have delivered me from my deadly trials...now, see the fruits of your labor."

"Pretty sure you mean  _ your _ labor." You corrected him. "I had the easy job."

Ezra shook his head. " _ Our _ labor." He was looking at you so warmly, his brown eyes crinkled at the edges from how hard he was smiling-

Kevva help you, did you want to... _ kiss _ him?

You had no time to ruminate on the sudden thought. Mr. Anglio cleared his throat and the spell was broken, Ezra exclaiming in juvenile delight that this was cause for celebration. 

You nodded absently, feeling off-kilter. It was as though a switch of comprehension had been flipped in your mind. You  _ did _ want to kiss him.

…

You wanted a  _ lot _ of things, you were quickly realizing. 

You wanted to sketch every sleepy smile Ezra graced you with over his mug in the morning. You wanted to be the only one to make his tea  _ just _ right. You wanted to sit with him for hours in the kitchen or living room, letting him bounce ideas off of you.

The two helmets perched on the mantelpiece taunted you every time you glanced at them because you  _ wanted _ to be part of a pair, more than a simple partner or roommate.

And it was  _ terrifying _ . 

You started searching for your own apartment even though the idea of living alone filled you with trepidation. He had said you were welcome for as long as you wanted, but now...the situation had changed. You couldn't handle living in such close proximity to him if your brain was hellbent on  _ doing _ things like this. 

It wasn't fair to him for you to want something like...that. For you to want anything at all from him.

You were ashamed of the way you had to tear your eyes off of him. You felt like an intruder, a  _ thief _ , a scavenging floater hoping for opportune jetsam. You hid away in your room whenever he was around, claiming that inspiration had struck and fumbling to dissuade his childlike enthusiasm when he asked to see your 'new works'. Little did he know that you erased most of what you drew.

You were infatuated with an  _ idea _ , in love with the picturesque plastic pornography that your mind had conjured, you told yourself sternly. Life wasn't perfect, and  _ no one _ , let alone someone who had endured as much as Ezra, would be interested in the pitiful gift of your affection. In your own eyes you were dirty, your body forever stained with the invisible mark of abusive handling.

You didn't even know if you  _ wanted _ to be intimate with someone again! Worse yet, you were uncertain if you would be  _ able _ to, or if Damon's treatment had so utterly broken you that you would be reduced to nothingness if you ever deigned to attempt.

You should have been happy. The book ( _ Aurelac And I: An Audacious Tale Of Greed In The Green _ ) was performing remarkably well. Ezra had woven a lucrative story with  _ just _ enough realism, fact and fiction carefully melded into a seamless narrative that appealed to everyone from grizzled floaters to cushy Central socialites. You should have been happy. You were set financially for the rest of your  _ life _ even without the book. 

You should have been happy.

Yet all it took was him giving you a tousled, sleepy smile over his morning cup of coffee or tea and discontent fairly  _ devoured _ you, turning your insides to knots. Your longing was sharp to the point of agony, an ever-present ache in your chest that you weren't certain any amount of distance would quell.

But you could try. 

So you prepared to leave, wavering between resolute and terrified while you tried to articulate yourself.

You had survived the Green. You knew you would survive this. 

…

Despite his predisposition towards prattling, Ezra was remarkably perceptive. You sometimes wondered if he used his rambling nature as a screen to observe reactions, instead of to  _ actually _ carry on a legitimate conversation. 

He didn't miss a trick, coming to knock on your door one afternoon as you finished packing up your meager items. Even though you had lived in this room for several stands, you had yet to clutter the space,  _ really _ make it your own. Maybe you had always suspected this would be temporary, maybe...maybe you knew better than to assume you would be anywhere for an extended period of time.

Fantasizing about having a real life with Ezra...wishful thinking,  _ indulgence _ of the highest caliber. You blinked back your tears, shoved the backpack off the side of the bed, and went to open your door.

"Gentle soul, I have brought you sustenance! Now please, I  _ beg _ , unlatch from the fickle teat of your creative muse to indulge with me." The former prospector implored from the doorway of your room, shaking a small paper bag at you. 

The scent of the sopaipillas in the bag hit your nose and you heard your stomach roar in reply. Ezra quirked a brow as you flushed. "Well, I guess a...a snack wouldn't hurt." You mumbled.

"I have greatly missed your company these past days." Ezra admitted softly after the two of you had posted up on the couch (you clutching your small sketchbook like a shield), his words clawing at your heart. "I feared you must be growin' weary of the burden of my presence."

You nearly choked to death right there, coughing and sputtering. "What?  _ No _ , of course not! If anything, I'm surprised you're not tired of  _ me! _ " You replied once you managed to swallow, guiltily thinking of the small knapsack that you had thrown into the space between your bed and the wall. Your plan was to leave a little later this evening, slip out while he was occupied with Serv A/V correspondence. He dedicated a certain amount of time in the early evening to managing his business affairs, currently working to iron a few more things out with Anglio regarding proprietary Serv-reader programs that wanted to port his tale. Hopefully by the time he realized you had left, you would be checked into your temporary quarters.

Ezra opened his mouth to answer you, but a chime at the door cut him off. "Did you order somethin'?" He asked, his face lighting up when you shook your head. "Ah, it must be something of mine then! How tantalizing, I keep forgetting what I've purchased. I love the surprise every time somethin' appears on the stoop." He grinned like a child, bouncing to his feet.

_ Stay happy for a little while longer _ , you found yourself begging silently. His smiles warmed you from the inside out and you knew that you would miss them immensely.

You watched as Ezra popped the door open, the man signing for the thick envelope while the courier hovered patiently. "I don't recall…" he trailed off, hip-checking the door closed and ripping the envelope lip with a puzzled expression on his face. 

"Who's it from?" You asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  _ That's not supposed to get here until tomorrow _ , you reassured yourself.  _ This must just be a coincidence _ . The envelope did bear a striking resemblance to the ones from your printer, but surely--

_ Oh no _ .

You felt your breath hitch as you spotted the return address. You had specifically requested that this delivery arrive  _ tomorrow _ , you had planned to leave later tonight, oh  _ no! _ You lunged to snatch the envelope from his hands. "Wait, wait, don't look!" You exclaimed sharply.

Ezra flinched in surprise at your abrupt change in volume, dropping the open envelope as his startled brown eyes flew to yours. Your hard copies spilled out onto the floor, pages flying here and there.

_ Shit _ .

"Gentle soul, what is...what is all this?" Ezra asked cautiously when you crouched to start picking the sheets up. "Are you workin' on a new project?"

Your hands trembled as you collected the sheets scattered on the floor at his feet. He knelt after a moment, but you knocked his arm away when he reached for a sheet. "I'm leaving." You whispered. "I made you this to...to try to explain." 

You pressed the stack of pages, now reorganized, into his limp hands. Ezra didn't even look down, his fingers automatically gripping the paper. "What?" His voice was hoarse.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I said, I'm leaving. I made you this to explain."  _ Please don't hate me _ .

"Gentle soul, I... _ surely _ we can engage in some civil discourse about this? Have I done something to vex you?" 

"No, it's not you."

"You'll forgive me if I am not reassured by your statement." He muttered. "I can think of no other reason that you would attempt a covert exodus like a beleaguered Israelite. Should I investigate the kitchen for unleavened bread?"

"I...what?" You asked in confusion. "Bread?"

Ezra groaned, shaking his head. "Never mind." He then asked bluntly, " _ why _ are you leaving?" 

You tapped the sheets in his hands, smiling tremulously. "Goodbye, Ezra." With that, you got to your feet and bolted to your bedroom, your face burning with embarrassment. You hated that you anticipated an explosion even after all this time; this was  _ Ezra _ , not Damon. You picked up your pack and slid on your boots, then hesitantly crept back out.

Ezra was still on the floor. He hadn't moved an inch, just staring down at the pages in his hands. You skittered past him tentatively, but he didn't so much as glance in your direction. This was what  _ you _ had decided, you reminded yourself while depositing your fob to the apartment on the table next to the door. You had chosen this route. All you could do now was stick to it. The door clicked closed behind you but instead of relief, you felt gut-wrenching sorrow.

_ Ezra, _

_ It's time for me to leave. I've never been good with words. They always get tangled up inside me _ .

You popped open the door to the complex stairs in the hallway, sniffling quietly as you began making your way down.

_ I wish I could tell you in a way that I knew you would understand. I wish I could articulate like you, but all I can do is draw. _

You checked the time on your battered watch. You hadn't invested in a new chronometer yet, the bulky square still serving its purpose even with a cracked screen. Perhaps you were too hesitant with your good fortune, you mused, but after having spent so many years carefully scraping and budgeting for every piece of gear, there was bound to be an adjustment period.

_ So here it is. Ramshackle and hackneyed; everything that you hate. It's got nothing to do with you, so please don't be upset. I just know that I shouldn't stay here any longer _ . 

Your mind's eye ran through your sketches over and over. Weary, worn-out boots. A leaking mug, broken and poorly repaired, pieces that would never fit back together properly. Your helmet, the dome cracked, overgrown in creeping, mossy green.  _ Alone _ . 

_ You should be able to get on with your life. You don't need me hanging around _ .

You rubbed your temples. It was too early for check-in, but you were certain that the hotel wouldn't mind you sitting in the lobby for a few hours. 

You reached the ground floor without incident, emerging onto the street and weaving your way through the crowded sidewalks of Puggart Bench. Maybe you would go off-planet, get away from the crush of Central's runoff. But that might mean a pod…

You could easily  _ buy _ your own ship, though you would have to hire a pilot. Perhaps you could get your pilot's license? You would already need one if you wanted to have ground transport options, instead of being subjected to the mercy of the Pug's PTS.  _ Of course _ . There it was, a plan. This wouldn't be so difficult. You had survived on your own for most of your life! 

You squared your shoulders, scrubbing at your face in an effort to shore yourself up.  _ Of course _ you could handle this. "I can do this." You said aloud, clenching your fists determinedly. "I have four hours until check-in. Tomorrow I have my appointment slated to look at living spaces, and I'll stop by the registry to sign up for the courses. Then, I can go to the grocery depot-" You continued ticking off your objectives, searching through your pockets for your analog sketchbook so you could write everything down.  _ Where is-? _

You thought you were imagining things for a moment when you heard Ezra's voice. "The gentry will think you've gone lunar if you keep rambling to yourself, gentle soul." 

He sounded slightly out of breath. You froze when a familiar hand tapped your most recent sketchbook against your arm. You must have left it on the couch. For a split-second, you debated on trying to lose him again in the thick crowd. 

But then, "Wait, please. Just...permit me a moment of your time." He begged. You sighed and obligingly struggled along crossways to the general flow of pedestrian motion, following him to the sheltered harbor of a nearby doorway.

Ezra shoved his hands into his pockets, looking  _ incredibly _ rumpled. You folded your arms over your chest, barely resisting the urge to hug yourself nervously. "Look." You said quietly. "If you saw the thing I gave you, you know why I'm doing this."

"I understand the  _ trajectory _ , but I am still in the dark when it comes to the catalyst." Ezra muttered. "What brought you to such a conclusion? What scurrilous thoughts have flourished, propagated,  _ conspired _ to usher you onto the path of solitude that you are so determined to float without me?"

_ I love you. I love you. I love you and I'm scared- _

"I think I love you, okay?!" You exploded, flinging the words heedlessly as you finally dared to actually  _ look _ at him. "I love you and I...Ezra, I'm-" Your lower lip began to quiver while you came to terms with what you had just done, your sentence drying up and your face flushing with shame. "I'm…"

"You're what?" He encouraged you softly, his eyes impossibly,  _ infuriatingly _ kind. 

" _ Scared _ ." You managed to get out, a raw hiccup catching in your chest. 

"Why?" You gestured vaguely up and down at your body, giving him a helpless little shrug. Ezra shook his head. "Attempt again. I want to hear what you have to say, but you must  _ speak _ ."

"I'm not...I'm... _ Ezra _ , I'm just-" Your voice dropped to a defeated whisper, tears beginning to roll down your face. "I'm broken."

"By whose definition?" He asked sharply, his visible bristling causing a spike of gratitude to nourish the flame in your stomach. " _ Who _ has planted these thoughts in your head? Because they are a bold-faced  _ liar _ ."

"I don't expect  _ you _ to understand-"

"Oh certainly!" He interrupted you in that ferociously cheery tone, "Why would I, a simple floater that has been crushed under the monstrous heft of the Great Chain time and again, understand what it's like to feel worthless or used? Better yet,  _ abandoned _ ."

"It's  _ different _ for me!" You cried, hating how pitiful your voice sounded. "You deserve--you deserve  _ everything _ and I'm so...I'm  _ dirty _ , I'm wrong and-"

"How the hell can you say things like that about yourself?" Ezra's large hands framed your face gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. "How can you spout such untruths about the woman I love?" He murmured tenderly.

_ The woman I love. The woman I love. The woman I love _ .

You stared up at him, certain that your mouth was agape. "You speak of  _ deserving _ with no regard for how little I deserve  _ you _ , gentle soul. It wounds me that you think so low of yourself." Ezra breathed, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own. "All I can think about when I look at you is how much I  _ do not deserve _ ...any of this. The stability, the  _ contentment _ . I am akin to a somnolent cat on a warm windowsill, gentle soul." His expression grew pained, clouded with thought. "My life has not been an easy one, perennially by the fault of my own hand. I did not anticipate such... _ fortuitously serendipitous _ circumstances, wherein I would be confronted with the task of engaging in mutual lodgin' strictly for the sake of enjoyment of another's company, you  _ must _ understand."

"I uh." You swallowed, "I probably will once I figure out what you said, give me a minu-"

"Let me translate into the layman's vernacular then. To spare you the...intellectual toil." Ezra sucked in a ragged breath. "I would appreciate you giving me the honor of er, being able to pursue a relationship with you. I would like to kiss you. I would like to kiss...as much of you as I can. I would like to touch you, wherever and whenever you'll permit. I would like to  _ know _ you...i-intimately."

His awkward little stammer at the end set you off, helpless laughter bubbling up in your chest. "Ezra-!" You sputtered, clinging to his hand.

" _ What? _ " He protested. "I am a loquacious  _ fool _ , gentle soul! Simplicity undoes me, as sure as your tenderness undoes me! I am at a  _ loss _ ." He pressed his forehead to your own. "I beg of you,  _ don't _ leave. Not yet. At least allow me to attempt to...to offer you something.  _ Anything _ . Permit me to prove you wrong."

"I don't know if you can." You murmured sadly. 

"You have saved me time and again, gentle soul." Ezra reasoned. "With your permission, with your consent, I...martyr's  _ malfeasance _ , let me  _ help _ ." His voice broke. "You nearly died, I nearly  _ lost _ you in that Green Purgatory. I do not approach this task lightly, please understand. You are immensely precious to me, and I...I am afraid I am being too verbose once more."

You reached out to run your fingers through the blond patch on his temple, then checked your watch with a put-upon sigh. "Well, if we hurry home, I can cancel my reservations before they charge me." 

"Home?" He echoed hopefully, his eyes brightening as he nudged his head against your palm.

"Yeah." You nodded, allowing a little smile to curve your lips. "Home."

…

"I haven't done anything for months, so I…" you trailed off nervously, your hands clasped in your lap. "I don't know whether I even  _ can _ anymore, you know?" You admitted.

Ezra nodded from his spot by the mantle, circling around behind the couch as he spoke. "I will not rush you, gentle soul. We focus solely on encouraging your relaxation." Your hands dropped to unbutton your shirt and a hand lightly tapping your wrist halted your motion. " _ Be still _ ." He murmured. "You are safe here. Disrobing is not even on the itinerary for this  _ week _ ."

"The itiner… _ tell _ me you have a weird little chart somewhere." You snickered, faltering when his large palms pressed down on your shoulders and eased you back against the couch. 

"It is not  _ little _ , I assure you." Ezra's thumbs slid over the back of your neck. "Rehabilitation is no laughing matter. I will speak throughout so you know that it is  _ me _ here. If you wish to close your eyes, please do. If you wish for me to stop, simply raise your hand."

"Wh-What are you going to do?" You queried warily.

"Rub your shoulders." 

You blinked, confused but immensely relieved. You had thought… "You don't want to...y'know?"

"Gentle soul, never doubt my  _ want _ ." Ezra muttered darkly. "The quest for knowledge is one of eternal restraint, prudent temperance and mute burden." You hummed, not entirely sure what he meant by  _ that _ . His palms were calloused and warm even through the fabric of your shirt, large fingers spread on your shoulders. Strong thumbs carefully worked into the nape of your neck, alternating in circles back and forth, back and forth. "What shall I speak of, gentle soul?"

"Hmm?" You were so focused on his hands you hadn't really heard his question. Ezra chuckled and repeated himself. "Oh! Um, I...well, whatever you can think of. I like hearing you talk. You could probably read the ingredients on a ration bar and I'd be invested."

Ezra sputtered, trying to muffle his laugh with his shoulder. "There's only so many ways I can expound upon such gripping topics as  _ monosodium glutamate _ before it lapses into tedium, gentle soul." He hummed low in his throat, then opened with, " _ On a most divinely appointed day, when our beloved Screamer had been taken by tempestuous winds and scorching rains, I found myself as William Bligh _ ."

"Oh, I  _ love _ this one." You grinned, settling against the couch. "Favorite story, hands down."

"The increase of your inclination towards bias when I am involved is duly noted and  _ immensely _ appreciated, gentle soul." You could hear his smile, picturing it in your head with ease. The way his eyes crinkled at the sides, his brows pitching slightly. " _ By the grace of Kevva I was tossed upon the mercies of fickle men who would not hesitate to slit my throat to save their own _ …"

...

The shoulder rubbing became a bi-nightly engagement. Ezra would recite a chapter from  _ Aurelac And I _ , occasionally adding little bits in for flair as he went. Tonight was one such night, " _ She swaggered into the tent, braggadocious and bold, her hair immaculately coiffed under the dome of her helmet and it was then I knew my demise was encroach _ -"

"You are  _ ridiculous _ , I am so far from braggadocious!" You interrupted him to protest. "And no one's hair  _ ever _ looks good in those helmets. Plus, I was one hundred percent not in your book, thank Kevva."

"I confess I toyed with the idea of writing you in, but you struck me as an individual so fiercely private...I did not wish to remove you from such delectable obscurity." The man teased. "Aside from your name on the cover, naturally."

"I can't believe you wrote it so that you lost an  _ arm _ -"

"How many  _ times _ must I remind you that the protagonist of this tale is not myself? He is a man of unwavering moral fiber." Ezra groused. "A man of dubious, shaded past and  _ impeccable _ integrity. Ambidextrous as well.  _ Nothing _ like myself in the least."

_ You make me wish I was a reputable individual. _

"Hey, Ezra." You craned your neck to look at him, his palm sliding to cup your ear automatically. "Can I do this for you instead?"

"Do what?" He asked blankly. 

"The whole relaxation thing. Like what you're doing for me, you know?" You extended your hands. "Can I do it for you tonight?"

"That's...it's not necessary, gentle soul, you don't-"

"I want to. Please?"

Ezra grimaced reluctantly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, if you are certain." You nodded enthusiastically and he sighed, slowly settling down on the couch as you climbed off of it. "I am unsure if I am quite so receptive to this particular tech-" His words hitched mid-sentence as your fingers slid up into the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck. "-nique." Ezra squeaked. "Going in for the kill so quickly, gentle soul? I at least gave you the fair play of two nights before my digits even grazed your h- _ air _ -"

You laughed quietly, fingers raking through his short hair with something  _ very _ close to greed. He tilted his head to follow the motion of your pulls, humming low in his throat. You contentedly basked in the feeling of his body under your hands, even for something as mundane as rubbing his shoulders or finger-combing his hair. "Ezra, you're so  _ tense _ ." you murmured.

"You  _ cannot _ fault me." Ezra protested. "I have a lifetime of prospectin' that these shoulders have borne the burden of without complaint. It's a miracle I can still  _ move _ , the foolhardy things I've done…" He flexed his right hand idly. "A miracle, facilitated in no small part by yourself."

Like always, you found yourself flushing at his praise. You bit your lip, a little hesitant to ask the question that had been plaguing you since that particular stormy night. You had your suspicions, of course, but you really wanted to hear it from his mouth. "So I don't know if you remember this, you were kind of half-asleep when you did it. You recited a poem to me and it started out something like…' _ you come to me in my dreams _ '." 

"Ah, hmm." Ezra coughed awkwardly. "Dare I ask why you enquire?"

You drummed your fingertips on his shoulders, then slipped your hands down to cradle his throat. Your fingers laced together just over his Adam's apple, pinkies resting on his exposed collarbone. "I was just wondering, what's the full version of it?" 

You felt him swallow convulsively. "I'm afraid I have not finished that one yet." He admitted softly.

" _ You _ wrote that?" 

Ezra nodded, chuckling, "Is that so difficult to believe?"

"Well uh, no, not really. I just...I guess I never thought about you writing anything else aside from the floater's rendition of  _ Blood And Swash _ ." You hummed as he laughed again, then asked, "What's it about?"

"It is  _ poetry _ , gentle soul. It doesn't necessarily have to be  _ about _ anything." He retorted a little  _ too _ quickly. 

You gasped softly. "Is it about me?" 

Ezra froze. "What?  _ No! _ As if written word alone would be enough to extol your virtues!" He snapped indignantly.

"It  _ is _ about me!" You crowed triumphantly, the fire in your stomach blazing bright.

" _ Hush _ yourself, you contemptuously  _ smug _ thing." The brown-haired man grumbled. 

"You're writing  _ poetry _ about me!"

"I can do little else!" He exclaimed in exasperation, pinning your hands in place on his chest. "You  _ demand _ it. You  _ are _ poetry without a page, gentle soul. I have a  _ responsibility _ to mankind itself, t-to document...such beauty must be  _ preserved _ , lest it fade to the marches of featureless time." Ezra proclaimed staunchly, staring straight ahead. "And truly,  _ what _ a disservice that would be."

You blinked down at the top of his head, tears gathering at the edges of your lashes. At your sniffling, Ezra half-turned to look up at you.

"Gentle soul?" He asked uncertainly. You shook your head, fumbling back over the couch to essentially tuck yourself into his lap. Ezra, to his credit, adjusted remarkably well to your sudden craving for closeness. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on the top of your head as you hid your face in his chest. 

"I'm sorry." You apologized thickly after a while, certain that he  _ couldn't _ be comfortable.

Ezra grunted, adjusting his posture beneath you into something that resembled a dignified slouch. " _In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn._ " He muttered the words rapidly, rushing through the memorized lines. " _In my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight_. _For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of youuuu_ -" He groaned the last word. "And there it stops. My brain, for all its magnanimous, expansive lexicon, falls utterly _flat_." His hands stroked over your head, fingers carding through your hair. 

"Maybe it  _ is _ done?" You suggested timidly.

He scoffed. " _ No _ , I just...I have to come across the right turn of phrase. The whole thing is trite enough as it is. Hopelessly lovestruck. Never thought I would be the type. Truly, a horrendous conundrum." He lamented, his voice soft. He didn't appear overly distraught about the aforementioned  _ horrendous conundrum _ .

"Is it making you feel querulous?" You jibed.

Ezra laughed ruefully, his eyes warm as he smiled. "It very well might be, gentle soul!"

" _ All for the fleeting glimpse of you, all for the… _ " You paused, your gaze falling to his lips. "A-All for the touch of your mouth on mine?" 

Ezra ran a hand through his hair, seeming a bit flustered as he tried to avoid your gaze. "We have not even-" 

"But we could." You whispered. 

"Could we?" He asked, his voice low. " _ Should _ we?" You cupped his jaw, your thumbs rubbing over the unruly stubble he permitted to grow there. "Do you wish to?" 

You nodded, smiling. "I do."

"Strictly to further research, naturally. To...facilitate my Byronic breakthrough." Ezra reasoned, his voice drawling lazily. You shook your head and his brows furrowed, drawing tight at the peak of his nose. "No?"

"Because I want to." You confessed shyly. 

Ezra cleared his throat, hoarsely rasping a single word. "Temperance."

"What?"

"Don't trouble yourself. I'm merely makin' a note of what to petition the saints for later tonight." A hand rested on the back of your neck, coaxing you in. His mouth was gentle on yours, tentative; lips moving with equal amounts of caution and curiosity. His mustache sent unfamiliar sensations racing across your skin, somehow coarse and soft all at once. You closed your eyes, whimpering quietly as you clung to his shoulders. "I must admit," he gasped into your mouth, "this is hardly conducive to my--"

"Shh," you hushed him, smiling when he chuckled. You bumped your forehead against his, nuzzling your temple over his Mallen streak. "Thank you."

"I believe that is my next line, gentle soul." He teased. " _ All for the touch of your mouth on mine _ . What a  _ deliciously _ trite stanza." His brown eyes searched your own. "I am lost in impassioned rumination over it." He murmured, drawing you back for another kiss.


	8. A Better Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains certain religious terminology used in a context that may be considered sacrilegious. Stay safe!]

Ezra might have prayed for temperance, but  _ you _ prayed for strength. You prayed for courage, for the flourishing of the bonfire that wanted to roar like a lion in your abdomen. Admittedly, you  _ did _ feel a bit silly approaching your eventual physical romance in such a  _ militant _ fashion, but the vibrant hunger of his kisses (for all that he tried to gentle them) was intoxicating. 

You were left wanting, craving,  _ longing _ for more and fearing it all at once. Somehow, Ezra had  _ known _ . Soothing your trembling away, adjusting himself before cradling you against his side, " _ I will not be a threat to you, gentle soul _ ." And he wasn't. You were safely returned to your room, wholly unmolested aside from a final, lingering kiss that left your skin tingling. 

You touched yourself that night for the first time in stands, hoping and wishing that he was doing the same in his own bedroom as you worked yourself feverishly to your orgasm. 

The next morning, you were terrified that things would be different. That something might have changed and that he would have  _ finally _ thought better of getting involved with someone like you. You lolled around in bed for far too long and then took your time getting washed up in the bathroom, but when you opened the door you were instantly confronted by your customary mug of morning beverage. 

"I'm afraid I...missed you in the kitchen earlier." Ezra murmured, brown eyes meeting your own nervously. "The hydro, while a  _ delightful _ invention, cannot hold a candle to your conversational wit." 

He was worried, off-balance. It made your tension ease; you could feel your shoulders slouching a little. The sight seemed to get him to relax slightly, the furrow between his eyebrows lessening when you accepted the mug with a quiet sound of thanks. "Wasn't sure if you regretted anything." You mumbled by way of explanation. 

"You are one of the few  _ beautiful _ things in my life that regret has yet to gain a foothold on." Ezra assured you sincerely. "And it shall remain so for as long as I have a say in the matter." He paused. "Is that...acceptable?"

You smiled up at him, taking the first sip. "Entirely adequate."

…

Ezra was soft and lazy in the mornings, slow to  _ really _ wake up, his sleep-tousled hair demanding to have your hands in it. You loved the way he would petulantly scrunch his nose when you kissed it.

Midday found him vibrant and mischievous, urging you to accompany him on his exploratory jaunts around the Pug's west dock and Ward Twenty Seven. His hand never left your own on these walks, that faint worry still there even in the safety and stability. 

Ezra usually tried to plan something to occupy the evenings. On the rare clear nights during the late autumnal season, he would drag you out of the apartment to the barely-maintained west park so the two of you could watch haphazard performances by local artists in the ramshackle community gazebo. More likely though, the bad weather kept you cozy on the couch in the living room.

"I keep wondering when I'll wake up." Ezra announced abruptly one bitterly-cold night. "I posit that perhaps I perished in the Green; Bakhroma's noxious foliage nourishing itself even now with my carcass. It would be a certain poetic justice, I think, for someone as morally  _ bankrupt _ as myself. My dastardly body serving to further the spread of such voracious verdance." His eyes were distant and troubled as he continued doggedly, "None of this feels  _ real _ . It is all too...soft. Too kind. As though any edge that could wake me has been sanded down, dulled to a dream."

" _ I'm _ not a dream." You replied firmly, snuggling closer to his side. 

"You are the most quixotic portion of this campaign, I have to say. That someone like you would even bother to glance my direction, to say  _ nothing _ of the warmth you exude...gentle soul, you are a Stockholmian improbability of the highest caliber." Ezra's voice cracked, his expression haggard. "I  _ long _ to be a man worthy of you. I don't believe in divine will, and even if I did I would be loathe to reduce you down to a simple compensation from some  _ nebulous _ deity for patiently enduring their trials, but...but I can think of no other reason for you to still be here with me." He confessed wearily. "I offer nothing you can't secure yourself, I have-"

"Ezra?" You interrupted before he could spiral any further into melancholy. 

"Yes, gentle soul?"

"I'm here because I love you, not because you have something I want to secure." 

"That has never been in question, but-"

"No no." You climbed into his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders. " _ I _ .  _ Love _ .  _ You _ ." You stated firmly, cradling his face in your palms after a moment. "Hey. I love you, Ezra. I love  _ you _ . Even when you disappear into your own head. Even when you go where I can't follow." Your thumb accidentally grazed the scar on his left cheek and he flinched, the intuitively defensive motion making your heart clench. "I don't expect you to be perfect. Gods know  _ I'm _ not! But don't think for a second that you don't deserve to at least be  _ happy _ , okay?"

"I deserve  _ none _ of this." He muttered dismally, still avoiding your gaze. 

"What was it you told me the day you came to see me in the hospital? ' _ We have endured so much worse than having a little good fortune, yet upon being confronted with it, we do not feel worthy _ '." 

His laugh was mirthless, raw. "I am remarkably eloquent,  _ especially  _ when I lie, gentle soul."

You huffed out a breath. "Oh that was a  _ lie _ , huh? I guess you wanting to be a better man must also be a lie, right? A hackneyed  _ platitude? _ " His chest shuddered, but you kept going, "All the times you've called me precious or beautiful or  _ gentle _ , probably lies. A valkyrie? What a damn joke."

"Now, wait just-"

"You want to lie? Lie all you want. But you're not going to  _ wallow _ ." You scolded.

"Gentle soul, I do not lie about  _ you _ ." Ezra protested. "I yearn to be a better man, a man worth your avid ardour with every  _ fiber _ of my reprehensible bein', yet I am unworthy of insomuch as the opportunity to enable me to do so."

"I wish you could see what I see." You ran a finger down the bridge of his pronounced nose, smiling when he wrinkled it. "I wish you believed me."

"As do I. More than you'll ever know." Ezra sighed, wrapping his arms around you. "If only to soothe my own damnable ego!"

"There's  _ nothing _ I can do to convince you?" You quizzed him, wriggling a little in his grip to try and get more comfortable on top of him. He grunted, tightening his hold. "Maybe I should write  _ you _ a poem."

"No, no." He replied breathlessly, his fingers digging into your hips. "You are already all the poetry I could ever desire, gentle soul."

"What about a sonnet? A haiku maybe?" Your brow furrowed as you noticed just how tightly he was holding you. "A...what, limerick?"

Ezra sputtered with laughter, his black mood finally seeming to lift. "A  _ limerick _ , Kevva preserve me!" He chuckled.

" _ There once was a man named Ezra _ …" you began threateningly.

"I am not an innocent, and yet I  _ implore _ your valkyrical heart for mercy. Spare me such torment, gentle soul!"

You pursed your lips, trying to think of a second line, but Ezra interrupted your thought process with a kiss. And really, it was  _ incredibly _ unfair that his kisses always seemed to render your mind to soft static. He hummed into your mouth, obviously pleased with himself. 

You didn't miss the way he settled you more firmly into his lap, however, making you break the kiss with a gasp. "No predation, gentle soul. I just crave you a little closer." Ezra breathed. "Is it too much?"

"N-No, not at all. I like it." You admitted shyly, toying with the buttons on his henley. He groaned, his mustache brushing the sensitive skin of your neck when he kissed you beneath your ear.

"I must confess to my shortcomings, gentle soul." He murmured against your neck. "I bear the cross of strong predisposition towards adoration and a certain... _ proclivity _ regarding devouring. I hope not to offend." 

"I don't know what you said, but I trust you." You replied just as softly, shivering at the volume of the groan he let out. The way he  _ sounded _ was enough to have you growing wet, your natural slick easing the drag of the seam of your pants over your clit when you shifted again.

"I said, I will worship you with every breath in my lungs, and I wish to put my mouth on you in a  _ salaciously _ intimate fashion." Ezra translated, his lips curving into a languid smile against your skin as he spoke.

"Oh?" You asked, willing your heart to stop pounding excitedly in your chest and trying to adjust your stance on top of him surreptitiously.

" _ Kevva _ , I do not deserve you. I feel untried." He admitted shakily. "Pardon my lewd terminology, but the delectable undulations of your form against my own threaten to bring me to fruition. I am afraid I must insist that we-"

You rocked your groin down, eyes half-lidding when you realized what you had been absently rubbing against this whole time. You braced your hands on his chest, leaning close. "You must insist that we…?" You prompted him with a teasing smile.

"Gentle soul, such cruelty...you have me  _ thoroughly _ turgid." He muttered through gritted teeth. His fingers cradled the back of your neck, as if he didn't trust himself to put them anywhere else. "Stay your hand, I  _ beg _ you, before I make a mess of this."

"Of what, your pants?"

"...among other things,  _ yes _ ." Ezra growled. 

"Hmm," you paused, as if you were thinking about it. "No." 

"You-!" Ezra's words dissolved into a hoarse groan when you hitched your hips up to grind your cunt against the swollen curve of his member, barely contained by his jeans. " _ Martyr's malfeasance _ , I can feel the heat of you, please don't stop-- _ may _ I touch you?" He gasped. 

"Where?" You asked, not so wholly aroused that you forgot your caution. 

He swallowed hard, the thick musculature of his neck rippling beneath your hands. "Wherever you'll permit me, please,  _ please _ , gods, I have never  _ craved _ someone as much as I crave you," he pleaded. "I want to grace you with as much benevolent joy as you grace me,  _ more _ even, I...I will be  _ nude _ for you, gentle soul, take me apart! Make me yours." He rambled on, his hands in your hair now as he urged your hips forward in their motion. "Permit me to taste and touch you, gentle soul. Allow me entry into the slick, sheltered hollows of your form, grant me succor where your divinity pulses to new life with every pass of my tongue." Ezra pressed his forehead to your own, his heated words stealing your breath. Half the allure was untangling them all. "I am but a sinner rendered wholly insensible by your presence, greedy and undeserving and yet I  _ beg _ , I implore-" 

You coaxed his hands out of your hair, smiling mistily at him before you kissed his knuckles. "Go ahead. I trust you."

"Rise then, you gossamer fae creature." He ordered, clapping a hand to your hip. "Titania's beauty  _ pales _ in comparison to your own and I have not even divested you of your garments." 

"Oh, here?" You bit your lip. "You don't want to...I mean, the bedroom?" 

"Is that what you wish?" Ezra queried, his hands stilling. You took in the sight of him underneath you, hair thoroughly mussed with his shirt rucked up over his belly. "Whatever you prefer, gentle soul. Is this too fast?"

" _ No _ , no no, I'm more worried about how small the couch i-- _ hey! _ " You yelped when Ezra cradled your body against his own and stood. Your knees grappled at his sides for a moment and he burst out laughing, fumbling to urge your leg up over his hip. 

"I've got you! I've got you, don't fret." The former prospector soothed, still smiling. "You're safe."

"Oh Ezra?" You called over his shoulder. "Some man is here to take me away, he says he's worthy of me or something, I dunno', I'll see you tomorrow morning okay?"

In reply, Ezra buried his face in your neck and blew a raspberry on your skin, making you squeal and wriggle. "You are so  _ smug _ , I love it!" He laughed. "You piquant little thing, a vivacious rebuttal to Kevva's divine will."

"Oh I'm  _ sacrilegious _ now?" You questioned as he carried you down the hall, feeling a tremor of fresh excitement when he entirely ignored your bedroom door in favor of his own.

"I am confident that you shall rapidly come to terms with your newfound paganism, gentle soul." 

You slung your arms around his neck and held on to him a little tighter, enthusiasm and trepidation warring within you.

Once the former prospector placed you on the bed in his room, his eager demeanor shifted. "Lights on, or off?" He asked softly. "Would you rather undress yourself, or would you like me to undress you?"

"Oh, u-um. Can we have just...a small light on? Like your bedside lamp?" You requested, twisting the hem of your shirt. "I'll be okay as long as I can see you, but I'm...well, y'know." You shrugged anxiously up at him. 

"I  _ don't _ know, I'm afraid. What are you?" 

Really, you should have known better than to assume that he would let you off that particular hook so easily. You sighed. "I'm not exactly in the greatest shape even after all this time, I've got stretch marks and that scar and I-"

"And  _ you _ , are immaculate." Ezra whispered, leaning in from the side to kiss the rest of your self-deprecation away. "You are strength and wonder and all the good that has  _ ever _ been, encapsulated in a stunning mantle of  _ kintsugi _ . Every scar is drenched in gold, every mark forged anew in radiance. You are pure  _ sunlight _ , gentle soul, rapturous air in this battered floater's lungs."

"Oh," was all you could say in reply, wide-eyed. 

"I wish you could see what I see." Ezra echoed your earlier words, smiling when you huffed and turned your head away from him. "It's true! Don't hide from me, gentle soul. I know it is embarrassing, but honesty is the best policy-"

"Says the one who claimed he was at his most eloquent when he was lying!" You protested, half-laughing.

"I regret to inform you that  _ that _ was a lie as well."

"You're  _ incorrigible _ ."

"And infatuated." Ezra returned to the bed from dimming the lights, shedding his shirt as he went. "Impossible. Infuriating. Vexatious. Precocious." His voice dipped to a sultry purr, the next word buzzing against the skin of your neck. " _ Garrulous _ ." 

"Ezra  _ please _ , you're the best-looking thesaurus I've ever known but I want to die of embarrassment. Can we not have a vocabulary-expanding session in the bedroom?" You begged, covering your face.

"Best-looking--such  _ flattery _ , gentle soul!" Ezra teased you mercilessly, "You could have lured me into your embrace  _ stands _ ago with that silver tongue of yours." He bent close, playing with your fingers at the hem of your shirt. "Besides, you cannot deny your reaction to my  _ expansive  _ vocabulary. You love it when I hum incomprehensible nothings just beneath your ear, don't you?" He enquired, mouthing kisses down the curve of your jaw. You couldn't help your delighted shiver. "You tremble for me, which seems to indicate a level of enjoyment. Either that, or apprehension. Are you apprehensive?"

"Maybe a little." You admitted.

"Because of me? Am I too close? Should I stop?"

"No,  _ gods _ no!" You protested wildly. Ezra settled back on his haunches, ever patient as you struggled to find the right words. "I'm not apprehensive about  _ you _ , it's...I guess I'm apprehensive about me. About whether I'll be able to...um, whether I can make  _ you _ feel good." You floundered.

"I would not trouble yourself with such concerns, gentle soul. If I can offer any assurance, it is in the knowledge that my love and, in kind, my making  _ of _ said love, is decidedly generous." Ezra soothed, those brown eyes warm and guileless. "All I ask is your permission and consent, which can and  _ should _ be revoked if you are discomfited by any advance I make."

"Promise?" You whispered.

" _ Martyr's malfeasance _ , I would rather lose my arm than cause you undue suffering. I swear it." Ezra replied simply, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "I will not be a threat to you. I will  _ never _ weaponize myself against you."

"Will…" you hesitated, feeling like everything had gotten so  _ incredibly _ serious so fast. "Will you let me win at Scrabble?"

He tried to keep a straight face. It worked. Briefly. "I will--I- _ dammit _ -" he snorted. "You drive a hard bargain, gentle soul. I may require legal counsel. I am loathe to relinquish my Scrabble dictatorship." Ezra sighed dramatically. "But if it is a question of pursuing carnal delights or intellectual, I must admit the former holds infinitely more allure. I will permit you to win  _ one _ game."

"Only one?" You bit your lip, tracing circles on his bare chest over his collarbone. A few scars stood out starkly on the olive skin, and you cupped one that marred his right pectoral.

Ezra's breath hitched. "W-Well, perhaps I might be open to candid discourse in favor of justifying two wins. But you  _ must _ understand, winning by underhanded tactics will give you no lasting joy." He cautioned you sternly. "A faux victory is naught but a festerin' wound that plagues your existence."

"I'll keep that in mind." Your fingers moved to the buttons on your shirt. "I know these small ones are hard for you to undo."

"Your charitable nature overwhelms me." Ezra breathed. "Leave the hooks, will you? I always delight in that particular chore."

"By all means. It's a pain in the neck otherwise." You smiled at how intent his stare was. "You see something you like?"

" _ Infinite _ somethings." He groaned, shifting his body down until he laid on his stomach. He pillowed his head on his arm as he looked up at you, his eyes alight. "I want to taste your skin so damn badly."

"I'm _right_ _here_ , y'know." 

"Yes, and I am utterly ruined by that fact. So close to me, so  _ near _ ." His hand moved upward, trembling fingers tracing your knee. "I am so  _ greedy _ for you, gentle soul. To think that I would spend a lifetime courting danger and avaricious pursuits, only to be rendered timid and a-quiver by the simple knowledge that everything I could ever possibly want is  _ here _ , here, I can reach out and fill my arms with it." 

You slipped your shirt off of your shoulders and Ezra swore under his breath. "I'm not dumb enough to believe that you've had an easy time of it yourself." You murmured. "You've got more scars than I do."

"By the hubristic tendency of my own hand, I assure you." Ezra urged you upright, his fingers battling with the fasteners of your bra. "Old wounds, made  _ infinitely _ less caustic by the knowledge that you anticipated me as tenderly as I anticipated you, gentle soul." Your bra finally gave way and the noise he made in his throat was  _ delicious _ , a helpless little croon of excitement that had you squeezing your thighs together for some meager relief. " _ Gods _ , I am woefully underprepared. I would beg for a lifetime to observe you even in this hapless state of undress, yet I am ushered onward by the siren call of this wonderful skin. I would...I would  _ very much _ like to touch you." He said faintly. 

"Where?" You whispered. His hands slid beneath your arms from behind in reply, cradling your own hands before he raised them to hover over your newly-bared breasts. You bit your lip anxiously. "Be gentle, please?" 

A nearly overwhelming sense of relief washed over you when Ezra nodded his forehead down into the nape of your neck. Knowing that he wasn't actually  _ looking _ at you yet, all he was doing was feeling you...it made it more bearable somehow. 

So far, so good. 

His index fingers slipped over the still-soft peaks of your breasts and you couldn't help the sigh you let out, feeling your nipples begin to wake under his touch. "Gentle soul, I...words fail me." Ezra admitted quietly. "To coax you to blossom by my hand is all that I could ever want in this lifetime. Lean back, please?"

You obliged, turning your face to kiss his neck so he couldn't see your expression. Ezra's motions were unhurried, tender; calloused palms chafing your breasts with care. His breath stuttered every time you lavished his throat and jaw with kisses. 

"It has been so long since I have been able to touch another, I only pray I do not disappoint. My technique may require some calibration." He apologized with a self-conscious chuckle. "I'm afraid my own imagination is a poor substitute for the flesh and blood fantasy you have presented me."

"I wish I could talk like you." You whimpered against his ear, feeling his chest expand with a sharp inhale. 

"Martyr's malfeasance, I am uncertain that I would be able to endure that hypothetical iteration of reality." He said shakily, delicately rolling your nipples between his thumb and index. You arched your back, gasping. This was  _ impossible _ , it had never been like this, even before Damon! The only time it had ever felt this good was when you were masturbating, because you  _ knew _ what you needed, you knew how everything worked, but now-

Maybe you weren't the  _ only _ one who knew just what you needed. 

"I wonder," Ezra mused, "I wonder just how drenched you are from this alone. I  _ know _ you are working yourself off on the seam of those  _ wonderfully _ tight jeans, gentle soul. Would you indulge me for a moment?" He ducked his head down, nudging his nose affectionately into your burning cheek. "I'd appreciate it if you would unzip your jeans. You do not  _ have _ to, naturally, and I do not expect it of you. But it would be... _ appreciated _ ."

You fidgeted for a moment, then moved to undo your button.

"Stay, now." Ezra murmured. " _ Slowly _ . No demands, no rush. We are relaxed. We are peaceful. Climax need not be a grasping, headlong event. There can be such a  _ build _ , a gloriously languid indulgence, where pleasure laps heady at the senses and completion bleeds into itself. You make me wish to take my time, gentle soul."

"Right, sorry. I just...I'm used to it. I'll try to remember." You panted, not missing the sorrow that flickered across his rough features. It made your heart ache and sing at the same time, his patience and understanding for your previous experiences.

"Do we need to stop?" Ezra queried. 

You shook your head, nearly hitting his nose. "No,  _ no _ . I'm having a great time." You insisted, making him chuckle. "No  _ way _ I'm stopping now, we're just getting to the good part!"

"I am of the belief that any moment I spend with you, clothed or otherwise, is  _ the good part _ . Perhaps I am too sentimental." The man allowed, still smiling. You bit your lip, skimming your fingers down the surface of your stomach. " _ There _ you are, gentle soul. Serene. Taut with anticipation, grinding those beautiful hips up for an echo of touch. Slowly,  _ slowly _ , make your body beg for it. Draw out the moment of arrival." Ezra instructed as he continued to tease his fingers over your breasts, his voice rasping slightly. "Open your placket as if you have never encountered one before, feel the ticking of the zipper teeth as they slip open."

You closed your eyes if only because you knew you were  _ safe _ , sliding down your zipper and arching yourself a little to wriggle your hips free. Your panties were soaked, wet enough that they made a soft noise when you tried to tug them down.

Before you could think to feel self-conscious, Ezra groaned long and low in your ear, and you didn't have to open your eyes to know exactly where he was looking. "You are  _ dewy _ , gentle soul."

"For you." You dared to say, relishing his gasp for breath when you slid your fingers down over your slit.

"Slick from  _ such _ hard labor, and I confess I am aching as well. But slow now, temperance. Will you touch yourself for me, gentle soul? Bring yourself pleasure?" Ezra paused, like he was fighting for air. "Allow me a taste of the sheltered, trembling divinity that is your womanhood, gentle soul. I am a man adrift in a desert of sensation." He begged hoarsely.

"You want…?" You trailed off, flushing hot at his rapid nod towards your hand. "Are you sure? I mean, what if it's weird? What if-"

"Nothing about your sensuous form could lessen my desire for you, gentle soul." Ezra licked his lips, pupils blown black with want. "Give me your taste. Anoint my mouth with your arousal as we indulge in this carnal rapture."

You were certain that if he said anything else you would spontaneously combust, his words like gasoline on the roaring fire in your belly. Ezra took the opportunity to lick  _ into _ your mouth, muttering fractured, helpless adoration under his breath as you whimpered and rocked beneath him. Your fingers dove back to your cunt, slipping through the slick folds to tease your entrance and then retreating up over your clit. With a hiccup of loss, you pulled your hand free and shyly extended it to him.

"Lay them on my tongue, you angelic creature. We engage in a communion older than the stars themselves;  _ gods _ , that I were a worthier man!" Ezra urged your fingers into his mouth, the brown-haired man moaning and laving at your soaked digits with an enthusiasm that you didn't anticipate. "As I suspected," he groaned, "heavenly ambrosia,  _ nectarean _ . You have sundered my very spirit with your taste, gentle soul." 

"You...it's okay, then?"

"It is an offering _from_ _your body._ Longing given delicious, lascivious form. It will never be less than the most precious thing to me." Ezra assured you, devilish fingers tormenting the stiffened peaks of your breasts. "Stroke yourself for me, please? Bury those nimble little fingers back into that sweet cunt and bring yourself to fruition."

You squeezed your thighs together, arousal pooling heated and dark in your stomach. He loved you. He didn't feel entitled to you. He wanted you to feel  _ good _ . "Ezra-"

"My name from your lips is at once agony and ecstasy, gentle soul. I could listen to your voice quivering for  _ hours _ ." Ezra crooned, a smile pressed to the skin of your shoulder. "Are you close? Are you rising turbulent, gentle soul? Threatening completion?" You could barely manage your nod before his large hands palmed your breasts, your nipples tenderly caged between his knuckles. "Then grant me that vision, gentle soul, let me witness you fucking  _ resplendent _ ." He grated out, the uncharacteristically blunt curse sending a searing jolt through your body. 

You were helpless to resist his plea, the blood roaring in your ears rendering you numb to the world for a few moments while your orgasm crashed over you. 

Ezra cradled you close to his chest; kisses landed on your neck, forehead, shoulders as he murmured praise and…

And you might have briefly lost consciousness.  _ Briefly _ .


	9. Gracious Gift

"I did not realize that I would cause you to swoon." Ezra's voice sounded _miles_ away. You moaned softly, feeling a hand stroke your forehead. "Peace. Be still, gentle soul. Did I urge you on with ill-advised fervor…?"

"No way." You croaked, forcing your heavy eyes open. You could still feel your core flexing, inner walls thrumming with aftershocks. "That was _incredible_ ." You continued dazedly. "Hi. _Wow_."

He smiled down at you, his blatant relief warming your entire body. "So you were insensible for good reason, then. In which case, I'm enthralled." You moved to try and sit up, but Ezra shook his head. His hand trailed down over your abdomen, coming to rest on the scar from Inumon's bayonet. He simply rubbed his fingers back and forth over the skin, his eyes distant with thought. He was uncharacteristically silent and you swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to speak.

"It feels like it's from another lifetime." You murmured finally. His gaze snapped up to your face, perplexing you with the sheer _depth_ of the sorrow that you glimpsed there. "The whole Green is...it seems so far away now, I guess." Uncertainty settled in the longer Ezra just _stared_. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong, gentle soul. I regret to inform you that I tend towards the ruminative these days. One of my many character flaws, amplified by the current safety and stability we luxuriate in." He tried to brush off your concern, but his fingers trembled where they touched you. 

You carefully covered his hand with your own, lacing your fingers through his after a moment. "You're thinking so hard that I can _hear_ it." You teased softly as you managed to scoot into an upright position. 

Ezra looked away guiltily, his thumb rubbing over the back of your knuckles. He seized the glass of water that was on his nightstand ( _had he panicked and fetched it while you were coming back around?_ ), passing it to you as if he was an improvisational actor buying himself time with a well-placed stage prop. 

You obligingly took several sips while he collected himself, somewhat bolstered by the fact that _he_ of all people was on uncertain footing.

"I am not a gentle man by nature," Ezra admitted finally, his voice ragged, "and I fear that in my eagerness, I may...I do not desire to harm you as you have been harmed in the past. I am not used to...I am... _indelicate_." He muttered, his thoughts clearly in disarray. "I'm at a loss. What do I do?"

"Can I at least see you?" You requested a bit shyly. Instead of panicky trepidation, excitement and arousal knotted in your stomach. You _wanted_ this, you _wanted_ to see.

"I can't refuse such an innocuous request, even if I fear the outcome." Ezra's hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, then stilled on his thighs before he could complete the task. "To be entirely candid with you, gentle soul, to...to tell you the truth, as I rarely have in my life, as one battered floater to another, I…" He paused, leaning towards you on the bed. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head slightly so he could kiss you again. 

"Are you alright?" You whispered against his lips. 

His exhale sounded suspiciously like a sob. "You'll have to forgive me if I seem pensive. I bandy with demons both in my mind and without." 

" _Ezra_ …" you sighed, slipping your hands up into his hair.

"I would gladly perish to keep you safe from _ever_ being harmed again. I know that with an ugly, ironclad certainty." Ezra said quietly. "But if I am the one who causes that hurt, if I am the aggressor…you _must_ see the dilemma that dogs my footsteps, gentle soul."

"I want this. I want _you_."

"And when you do _not_ want me? A man like myself does not touch beauty for long, gentle soul. Such wondrous things have slipped through my fingers time and again." He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "With good reason, I will never deny. I am not a man deserving of earthly delights. I would rather I display what I _promised_ to you. Namely, selfless ministrations, and I shall not muddy the proverbial waters with my own tepid affections."

Your heart broke at his outward nonchalance, at the acceptance in his words. He _believed_ what he said, and that might have been the worst part of hearing him speak. You could understand why he would feel this way, for all that it made your heart sink. "Okay." You nodded, catching his wrists before he could pull away. "I get it."

He quirked a brow at you, flexing his hands pointedly in your grip. "Oh? Dare I ask what has led you to such a confident statement?"

You didn't reply, tugging his arm to drag him down to the bedspread with you. Ezra went willingly, though he was still visibly confused. You tucked him into your side and a moment after you released his hands, his warm palm slid across your stomach. You hummed low in your throat, flicking him in the arm. He halted, his forehead furrowing and hand going still. You brought your own palm to rest on his chest, fingers swirling around his right nipple. Ezra bit his lip, nervously shifting his weight as you simply drew a circle over and over again. 

The motion was soothing in its repetition and you slowly, _slowly_ felt Ezra stop thinking so much, as strange as that was to say. His shoulders relaxed, fraction by fraction, even as his cock pushed insistently against your hip through his jeans. "You don't have to believe me, at least not right away." You began lightly. "I know you're worried, and that worry is important. I'm not great with words, so I hope I'll be able to...kind of get you to understand."

Ezra nodded drowsily.

"So you're a good prospector, right? Scouting digs, working with a team, mining…" you ticked the list off on your fingers, making him chuckle. 

"Survival took precedence, gentle soul. I wanted to eat, so I became a prospector. Many do. I'm not certain I follow your intellectual trail."

"You're so impatient, let me _finish_ ." You scolded, laughing when he kissed your knuckles in apology. "How good were you at _actually_ mining, though? As in, what job did you have?"

"Before the last mutiny I was granted the illustrious position of 'dig surgeon', if that gives you any indication of my skill level." Ezra informed you, actually sounding genuinely proud. "I was responsible for the salvaging and refinin' of many different materials from a young age; took to it like a fish to water even though everyone always complained about it bein' tedious or 'grunt work'. I've always been fond of workin' with my hands, you see, for all my palavering."

"So you've harvested a lot of really important resources, yeah? Learned how to be patient? Learned when you needed delicacy?" You could almost sense the moment your point seemed to dawn on him, but you kept talking. "How many aurelac pulls have you ruined in your career? Y'know, if you had to estimate."

"Only one." Ezra answered you quietly. "My first attempt. I was unsteady with the blade. After that, I...I braced. My foreman at the time was not an individual of great charity or patience." He tapped the scar on his cheek. "He made certain I understood and _felt_ the gravity of my mistake, naturally."

What an unhappy bit of information! Your heart broke anew for the man beside you, and you found yourself extending your hands to cradle his face once more. Ezra willingly settled his chin into your palms, but you felt him cringe _hard_ when you pressed your lips to the scar on his cheekbone. 

"It did not even _hurt_ , per se, not in the moment. As I recall I was more startled by it than anything else. The sudden _savagery_ , the way he lashed out at me, I...I'm afraid I am still a bit hand-shy on occasion due to that event." Ezra tried to smile. "How preposterous. You must think me quite the _ferocious_ coward."

"Never." You replied firmly. 

"So willing to accept my shortcomings! I would be more wary, were I you." The man warned, tapping the end of your nose.

"Listen, what I was trying to say is that you _know_ how to be careful. You know when something is too important, and you know better than to risk it. You're not giving yourself enough credit."

"You are _infinitely_ more precious to me than any mere dig pull, gentle soul." Ezra replied. "The rarest resource I've ever had fall into my hands." His fingers traced your facial features almost reverently. "I…"

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't." You took a breath. "You're not like him."

" _Martyr's malfeasance_ ," Ezra whispered, his voice rasping in his throat. The bewildered gratitude in his eyes was the same as it had been in the tent when you agreed to help save his arm, and the recollection nearly had you in tears. "I have worked in tandem with you previously, reaping dangerous rewards, writing stories and bringing you to your peak. May I...may I touch you again?"

"Again, and again, and again." You agreed with a trembling smile, your emotions running hot just beneath the surface. Ezra kissed you hungrily, rolling onto his knees and pressing your shoulders back against the mattress.

"I would _love_...to taste you." He breathed between nipping at your lips. "Permit me to slake my thirst on the pastoral bounty that is your body, gentle soul. Permit me to indulge my penchant for devouring."

"As much as you want." You gasped, whimpering when his mouth immediately latched onto your left breast. 

Ezra nursed from you until you were writhing, _pleading_ for him to move, his teeth gently teasing at your tormented bud. "I love you." He murmured. Your hand raked through his hair almost frantically at his words, and you bit down on your thumb to keep from sobbing out. Large hands framed your hips as he slid down your body, and Ezra cupped your thigh to encourage first your right leg, and then your left up over his shoulders. 

Here it was. The moment of truth, his head bowed slightly as if in prayerful contemplation while he took in the sight of you. You barely managed to keep still, your flush comprised of equal parts arousal and embarrassment. 

"My dreams pale in comparison to the beautiful reality of your form." Ezra groaned, the words a rumble in his chest. You covered your face as you felt his knuckles graze your slit, making your whole body tremble. "Kevva, the way you _quake_...is this alright, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously. 

"M' fine, I'm just embarrassed." You admitted breathlessly. 

"Why?" Ezra queried, and when you peeked at him through your fingers you saw his head cocked inquisitively to the side. 

"I-I mean, everyone is about something, right?" You reasoned. "I'm not used to...um, _this_ , that's all. It's never lasted this long." 

"Ah." Ezra looked saddened, but the expression fled nearly as soon as you noticed it. "Am I...am I going _too_ slow? Is it a drudgery?"

"What? _No_ , gods no, Ezra you are…" You struggled to come up with the right word as you propped yourself up on your elbows, resorting to, "You're _perfect_ ," and a clumsy shrug. "You're so patient and good to me. I love you."

His expression lit up with a smile so genuine you felt tears sting your eyes, and his hand patted the outside of your thigh. "Perhaps I am bein' a bit _too_ verbose for the bedroom." He allowed, giving you a wink. "I would love to give you a demonstration of what else my mouth can accomplish." The man inclined his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "May I?"

"Oh gods, _please_." You mumbled, your hands clutching the bedspread on either side of you. 

You unintentionally braced yourself and he must have noticed, his fingers massaging slow, calming circles on your inner thighs to get your tense muscles to relax. "I have you, gentle soul. It's me." Ezra reminded you softly. "Keep your eyes open if you need to, put your hands in my hair if you need to. It's just me." 

Hesitantly, you reached down and threaded your fingers through his shaggy hair. "Okay." You exhaled the word. 

You felt his breath on your cunt and then his thumbs spread you open, the motion alone making your inner walls flex in eager anticipation. "Oh, _look_ at you." Ezra sighed, the kiss he pressed to your clit nothing but a feather-light tease. His tongue raked over your entrance and you quivered, trying your best to keep from squirming. 

Your wanton cry of delight when he finally, _finally_ delved his tongue into your pussy made him moan in reply, and you were certain you might be gripping his hair a little _too_ hard. The bridge of his proud nose rubbed against your clit over and over, a maddening rhythm of back and forth that had your hips twitching with every pass. His mustache was _ticklish_ in the best possible way.

"Gentle soul, I have never savored a more divine treat than this in all my years," Ezra murmured, "never harvested a more precious resource than the lovely sounds I wring from your lips." He returned to devouring your arousal with single-minded intent, no doubt realizing that you were already wound tight.

You sobbed out his name and Ezra groaned softly, his index finger slowly tracing your entrance. The digit was thicker than your own, longer, and while nothing had _hurt_ yet, the pressure of it stirred a momentary unpleasantness in your chest. You froze for _just_ a second.

And Ezra noticed, his motions coming to a halt as he raised his head. "Bad?" He asked, his voice sounding almost deliberately even. "Shall I slow down, or reverse?"

"Slow down." You answered him after a moment. "I'm not...I just don't want it to hurt. It's not bad yet. I can do it." You muttered the last part, determined. 

"Is it my fingers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, not really _eager_ to have this conversation _right now_ , but… "Sort of? They're just...a lot bigger than mine. M' not used to it yet."

"Don't rush yourself, gentle soul." Ezra ordered, lazily reaching his hand up to splay his palm on your stomach instead. He drew his index finger in a firm line down the length of your abdomen, stopping just shy of your pubic mound before retreating back up your belly to repeat the stroke. His touch was soothingly warm, heated by the friction of his movements, and you found yourself eventually relaxing again. 

The former prospector was obviously hellbent on taking his time with you, his mouth alone reducing you to a puddle beneath him. You still hadn't come but you could feel it building, _building_ in your stomach; his tongue on you was nearly better than an _actual_ orgasm, the wet muscle tenderly tracing arcane, forbidden designs on your throbbing cunt. You alternated between wishing he would just _stop messing around_ and being so incredibly grateful that he _was_ , because it afforded you the time to wrap your mind around the fact that you absolutely wanted him to fuck you.

_Absolutely_ . You wanted him inside you, wanted him over you or under you, you wanted this, you wanted _him_. 

You started rocking your hips without meaning to and Ezra murmured, "shall I stroke you now, gentle soul?" You _felt_ his smile when you nodded rapidly. "I'll be just as gentle as you, if not gentler." 

It didn't hurt.

_It didn't hurt_ . Thank _gods_. 

Ezra crooned low in his throat and that _noise_ made you whine, his finger stroking into you careful and sweet and _deep_ , so deep. "You take me so _well_ , gentle soul. Shall I curl it for you, or is this sufficient?"

"Oh _please-_ " you begged, your thighs trembling. 

"A _plea_ , my Eve offers to Lucifer! What a divine supplication. I shall indulge." Ezra muttered darkly, his brow furrowed as if in thought. His thumb applied even pressure to your clit and he proceeded to quirk his index upwards, the sensation making you struggle uncontrollably into a half-sitting position. He stared up at you, no doubt a bit startled by the speed of your motion. "...good?" He suggested tentatively after a second. 

"Fuck, _Ezra-_ " you choked out, and Ezra grinned broadly (no doubt in relief). His grin quickly turned into a groan as your fingers kneaded against his scalp like you were a contented cat, his eyes rolling back in his head briefly.

"Gentle _soul_ , you will cause me to ruin my jeans if you keep blessing me with these _delectably_ hearty reactions." He said shakily, stroking you faster now. "Does completion beckon as sweetly as my fingers? Are you teetering on the precipice of release once more? Has the ardent lovemaking of my tongue rendered you mute? Stand at the lectern of passion and _sing_ your hymn to me, gentle soul." He commanded. The soft authority in his voice tingled across every _inch_ of your naked body as he growled, "I would see you fucking _drenched_ from the sweet toil of wanting me."

Your eyes flew open, your back arched and he lowered his mouth to you once more as you came again with a gasping cry of his name. He devoured you at leisure now, the smooth flat of his tongue soothing your sensitive clit even as it pulsed from your climax. You sobbed a breath through your teeth, raking your fingers through his hair over and over in a daze as your body quivered like it would never stop. 

When Ezra withdrew his finger you couldn't stifle the pitiful noise you made, your cunt feeling achingly empty. "Want you inside me." You panted, watching him jerk unceremoniously to a halt through barely-open eyes. "Please Ezra, _fuck_ , please, I-"

" _Steady_ , steady." He cajoled softly, moving up over you on his hands and knees so he could press his forehead to yours. "I don't know if you really want _all_ that right this moment, gentle soul." He swallowed hard when you shoved your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. " _Gropin'_ me? How incredibly _naughty_ of you, so bold!" He teased, his eyes crinkling with the spread of his grin. "Wouldn't it be better to calm you down again, though? You must be weary from your work, weary from-" 

You didn't let him finish, unzipping his jeans for him. "Please." You sighed, boldly splaying a hand on his abdomen before sliding it into his pants. 

Ezra rocked his hips down, the heavy arch of his cock landing squarely in your palm. "You shied away from a _finger_ , gentle soul." He whispered pragmatically. Not judgemental, but _logical_ . "I am...at the risk of sounding overly-confident, I am a _touch_ larger, as you appear to be realizing with the motion of your hand." He finished, his voice cracking slightly.

He was, oh gods. He seemed _huge_ , the stiffness and heat of his cock even through his boxers taking your breath away. Instead of fear though, you felt _desire_. Your fingers grazed the wet tip, traced the proud vein that pulsed down the length of him and Ezra made a wanton noise, his head hanging. 

"Gentle soul, even if I can, even if I do, I regret to inform you that it... _I_ will not last long." He gritted out, tipping your chin up so he could kiss you softly. "Why cause you grief over something that I can easily take care of just by rutting against your thigh?"

"I want to." You breathed, lifting your hands to cup his face. 

Ezra met your eyes and strangely, _he_ was the one that looked afraid. "I need you to _understand_ what you're askin' of me." He muttered. "I hang by a delicate thread, gentle soul, and I fear that the moment I intrude into your body, I will wound and mark you with my greedy lust."

"I know you won't." 

" _How_ could you possibly know?" Ezra cried, sounding frustrated. "I myself don't even know! Martyr's malfeasance, I am made _base_ by my longing for you. I want nothing more than to sheathe myself in your sweet, trembling cunt, I want nothing _more_ than to hear you utter my name in primal ecstasy, but I will not be the inelegant oaf that pushes you past your breaking point to urge such sensations out of you!" He said sternly, resting his forehead on your own again.

You smiled up at him. "I know you won't. I trust you."

Ezra stared at you for a moment, his gaze turbulent. "If you hate it, I _will_ stop." He promised finally, pressing a forlorn kiss to your palm. His facial hair tickled the skin and you giggled a little, the noise seeming to slightly ease his conscience. "Truthfully, I do not know whether you will have _time_ to hate it." He admitted with a shaky chuckle. "I'm just barely clinging to my composure as is."

"That's okay." You tugged his jeans down over his hips so he could kick them off, his boxers soon following. 

Ezra slid his hand down over your cunt, making you twitch and shudder as he gathered a mixture of your arousal and come to fist his cock. " _Oh_ , fuck," he grunted, thrusting into his own hand. "You are so _warm_ , gentle soul. I surmise you may burn my soul to ashes if I defile you." 

He positioned himself over you, grasping your hips to raise them slightly. You covered his hands with your own, silently encouraging him to continue when he hesitated. Ezra dragged his cock over your cunt a few times, rocking his hips back and forth until he was soaked with your arousal. "Please." You begged, your body arching to meet him every time the underside of his cock blazed hot on your clit. "Please, Ezra, please--"

"Temperance." The brown-haired man said hoarsely, "temperance. I will not be a threat to you." His member ground against your pussy and slow, _so_ slow, like he was trying to render you to nothingness out of sheer _impatience_ , Ezra began to press into you. 

A daze took you as surely as he did, your hands falling limp to the bed. The width of him stole your breath away, but even with his size...it didn't hurt.

Ezra exhaled a ragged gasp of air, glancing up from where your bodies joined. "You are weepin', gentle soul." The look in his dark eyes was jarring, one of combined terror and concern. "Is it as I feared?"

You shook your head rapidly, trying to remember how to speak. You hadn't even noticed the dampness on your face, so complete was your pleasure. "Good." You huffed out finally, going so far as to flash him a thumbs up and a smile.

His relieved moan sent a heated wave through your body. " _Gods_ , I was so afraid I would harm you." You could feel his thighs twitching with the effort of keeping himself still. "Permit me to move?"

You nodded so hard Ezra couldn't help but laugh, the man shifting up and over you once again. His hips settled into the cradle of your pelvis and he gasped, burying his face in your neck even as he wiped the tears from your cheek.

"You grip me so tightly, it is as if you _wish_ to tear my completion from me." He muttered, sounding almost apologetic while he covered the skin of your shoulder with kisses and soft bites. One slow, graceful thrust had you bucking against him, whimpering when he withdrew. "These delectable pleas you are makin' strain to sunder the last strands of my limited pride, gentle soul, but at the same time I...gods, I _love_ hearing you cry out in rapture for me." He hissed through clenched teeth. 

Your hands greedily raced over his back and up the nape of his neck, one seizing a handful of his hair while the other clung to his shoulder blade for dear life. " _Thank you_." You half-sobbed, mouthing the words on his jaw while he filled you with his cock. "Thank you, Ezra, thank you, thank you…"

"You will absolutely _destroy_ me, gentle soul. This pussy threatens me with radiant immolation and yet like a moth to a flame, I come to you with no fear." Ezra's voice trembled, "That my sins could be forgiven so readily! I would happily spend eternity in the gentle embrace of your body."

His motions had you writhing underneath him, clinging tightly to his lithe frame as he drew taut. His member thrust deep enough to make the pit of your stomach ache sweetly. Kevva, you _craved_ this man, craved the love he gave you with a tenacity that made your heart feel as if it would burst. 

Ezra kissed your forehead, the tendons in his thick neck rising stark beneath his skin with the effort of holding everything in check. "All I can ask for is that you be charitable when you look back upon this first engagement," he choked out, laughing a little. 

You smiled up at him. "Come for me, please?"

"What my gentle soul commands, my body obeys with zealous fervor." He panted, sounding a bit rueful when he added, "for better or worse." Ezra's mouth met your own hungrily, his facial hair sending sparks across your skin as he surged against you a final time. 

Ezra's orgasm seemed to pull every ounce of energy from him, leaving his body quivering above you. His right arm gave way suddenly and he nearly collapsed, dropping to his elbow instead with a shaky curse. You quickly guided him down on top of you, not particularly worried about being crushed at the moment as you stroked the back of his head. 

"Shh, you're okay." You soothed when you felt the skin of your shoulder grow hot and damp with tears. "You're okay. That was a hell of a workout, don't be upset." You cupped his head. "You just gave me a fucking _transcendent_ experience Ezra, _please_ don't be upset."

His laugh was watery, but still there. "I should have known better than to test my limitations with so much at stake, gentle soul. Nothing to blame but my own fool pride. Are you alright? Still no pain?"

"I am…" you sleepily searched for the right word. "I am _somnolent_." Your brow furrowed. "Right? That's the one?"

"You are pleasantly drowsy, then. Exhausted and peaceful." Ezra mumbled against your shoulder, absently tonguing the skin he found. "I have done well, if that is truly your humor at this juncture." 

"Oh, you did _insanely_ well." You assured him as you closed your eyes, nudging your chin against his sweaty curls. "Thank you."

"I believe it is _myself_ that ought to be expressing my gratitude to _you_ , gentle soul. This was no easy task. The amount of trust you extended to me so freely, I…I am honored." Ezra replied around a yawn. "And immensely weary."

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

He shot you a one-eyed glare from his spot at your collarbone. "Bold of you to assume I would relinquish my grip on you while I'm conscious."


	10. The Culmination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment discusses children/pregnancy/'family-planning'. Stay safe!]

You slipped from the bed, barely managing to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Ezra seemed less man and more _octopus_ when he slept. Wrapping your shirt around you as more of an afterthought than anything else, you crept out of his room and returned to your own. 

Through the tiny window in your bathroom you could see thick snowflakes falling, and you dimly heard the low rumble of the street plows. As you filled your tub, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror above the sink.

And you smiled.

_Kevva_ , you were a mess! Your hair was mussed, your chest and collarbone littered with marks from Ezra's tender ministrations. You ran your fingers over your skin, laughing quietly. It had been so long, you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy sex. Almost forgotten how _sticky_ it made you feel afterwards too, hence your bath.

Your body tingled and ached in the best ways, like you had just gotten done with a satisfying workout. In a way, you supposed you had. 

Once the tub had filled, you carefully sank into it with a sigh of contentment. The warmth of the water felt _heavenly_ , soothing the admittedly-tender skin of your inner thighs. You knew you ought to get started washing up, but first you dipped a little lower in the water and blew a few bubbles. _Perfect_.

You were midway through scrubbing yourself down when you heard Ezra's voice, the man sounding slightly panicked as he called your name. "I'm in my bathroom!" You replied. 

Footsteps bolted up the hall and the former prospector all but lunged into your room, his hair even more of a mess than usual and his eyes wild. "Oh. _Oh_ . Forgive me for invadin' your _boudoir_ , gentle soul." He apologized after he spotted you through the open bathroom door, averting his eyes. "I may have had a bit of a terror, and when I awoke to find you missing, I...I'm out of sorts, is all." He rambled, his voice still gravelly with sleep. "Did you see that it has finally begun to snow?"

"I did! I'm surprised we can hear the plows all the way up here." You answered cautiously. He was working his jaw again. "I'm sorry I left, I just forgot how grungy I can get when...well uh, you know. _During_." 

Ezra waved off your apology, seeming to have calmed down. "No need for contrition, gentle soul. It was my mind playing cruel pranks on me. I'll leave you to your bath, and then rest." 

"Hey, wait." You implored as he turned to leave. "Go get showered and then come sleep in here with me instead? My sheets are clean. We probably did a _number_ on yours." Ezra tilted his head, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. "What?" You asked after a moment, a little disconcerted.

"You are so _incredibly_ beautiful." He murmured simply, making you flush. "I merely wanted to drink it in. You have no equal even in my vast vocabulary, no match in my lexicon. And so I settle on the trite, the mundane, _beautiful_ ." He shook his head. "A tragedy, really, but should I resort to something so exotic as _pulchritudinous_ every time I feel amorous, I fear you may want to strike me out of exasperation." 

"Oh no no, that one is for _special_ occasions. Weddings and funerals only." You joked. He laughed, his pensive expression finally easing. "Now _go_ , I'm going to get ready for bed. Meet me back here in ten."

Ezra saluted lazily, still chuckling.

…

"You recall what I mentioned earlier, gentle soul?" He asked softly once the two of you were safely ensconced in the warm cloud of your comforter. "About how this all seems like a dream?" You nodded against his chest, feeling the deep sigh he let out. "I am never the final stop on the proverbial slingback, you see. There is always a brighter horizon, a more affluent lover, another mountain to scale." He explained, sounding resigned.

"Not for me, there isn't." You said, raising your head so you could look at him. "I want to be here with _you_. As long as I can have you."

"You are hardly the first to offer up such a platitude." Ezra murmured, his nonchalance once again making your heart sink. "So I will be with you, and hold you, and love you until you are weary of me, and then…" he hesitated, "and then I will release you without debate, for you are not mine to cling to. You are your own woman, gentle soul, for all that it wounds me to say it."

"Excuse me?" You propped yourself up on your elbow. His eyes were firmly locked on the ceiling overhead, studiously avoiding your gaze. "Ezra, what the hell?"

His jaw worked and you saw him swallow hard. "I did not mean to cause you grief, gentle soul. I am not particularly skilled at pillow talk."

"Hey, no, look at me. Please?" You requested softly. Ezra blinked up at the ceiling. " _Please_ , Ezra. Don't disappear on me just yet."

"I am not the master of my own emotions currently. I must insist we postpone this discus-"

" _Ezra_." You huffed, cupping his face with your hands. He struggled to dodge your eyes, his own filling with tears the longer he attempted. "Oh...no, no, don't cry Ezra. Talk to me." 

" _Damn it_ , gentle soul, you have me all in a twist about this!" He cried in exasperation. "It is _inevitable_ , invariable, inescapable, why does it abrade me so _harshly_ this time?"

"How many other people have you written poetry for?" You inquired bluntly.

"Well...I mean, that is-"

"How many other people have you asked to share your living space?"

"Gentle soul, I don't-"

"How many people have you been _patient_ with?"

" _No one, damn it!_ " Ezra roared finally, "you're _it!_ Are you satisfied now, now that you've dragged a dull, tepid answer out of me?! Are you thoroughly _entertained_ by my piteous bawling, gentle soul?" His chest heaved with emotion and he rubbed roughly at his eyes. "I am _not_ patient. Not by nature, not by habit or happenstance. I am not particularly generous, kind or _honest_ , not without promise of recompense." He snapped, "I do not _presume_ to be a good man, gentle soul. I've made this abundantly clear."

"So why would you be upset over me?" You pressed, not dissuaded in the slightest by his bluster, "why would you be good to me if it's so _out of character_ for you?"

"Because you are _all_ of those things, and I crave you more than any reward in this universe. _Kevva_ _above_ , your generous spirit has me reeling, your kind words leave me breathless, your honest love slaughters my deep-seated contempt for such juvenile emotions. Yet I cannot decipher whether I merely _play_ at the better man, or if I have indeed metamorphosed due to you. Until I stumbled across you in the Green, I did not even believe someone like you existed." His eyes softened, going glassy once more. "Most of the time I still don't."

"But I _do_ exist." You insisted. "I'm _here_ , and I'm not leaving."

"Do not promise me such things." Ezra muttered, kissing your knuckles. "My morose poetry will be a poor replacement for the warmth of your touch when you _do_ depart."

"I get the feeling that you like wallowing even more than you like _me_ . You miserable-" You kissed him. "-broody-" _Kiss_ . "- _dour_ man." Bumping your forehead against his own, you continued, "I'm _not_ leaving. The last thing I want to do is justify this _mopery_ you're indulging in. What happened to the guy who dragged me halfway across the Pug for junk food?"

"I love you so much." Ezra whispered, his hands shakily carding through your hair. "I have warded off many a potential partner simply by the virtue of my verbose nature, but you have stayed throughout. While the thought of you leaving _terrifies_ me, the thought of," he paused, grimacing, "the thought of becomin' something...becoming a man like _him_ steals the very breath from my lungs. I shall not tear you from the sky, gentle soul. I _will_ not clip your lovely wings."

You bit your lip. "I know you won't. That's why I'm still here." You assured him softly. "I'm yours for as long as you want me."

"Martyr's malfeasance, you _cannot_ promise me eternity." Ezra protested. "I haven't even _asked_ you yet, not officially, and we must think of the _paperwork_ -"

"Asked me what?"

"Ah." Ezra cleared his throat, his face pinking up in a highly-endearing manner. "Well, that is to say...I had...I _may_ have indulged in a bit of domestic daydreaming. _Strictly_ speculative, you understand." He hemmed and hawed, wringing his hands nervously. "I am...I'm not a _young_ man, gentle soul, I am approaching my mid-forties. My life has not been a particularly _kind_ one, and I...my body is... _worn_." He stammered, "I-I bear the bold stamp of blue-collar occupation, as it were." 

You raised an eyebrow, confused at his discomfort. "Ezra, if you have something to say..."

"What do _you_ want out of life, gentle soul?" Ezra asked suddenly. 

"Me? Uh..." You sat back on your haunches, propping your chin up with your hand as you thought. "I'd like to move somewhere a little quieter, eventually. More countryside. Somewhere that the flora won't _kill_ me, of course, but you know." You shrugged, tapping at his ribs meditatively. "I liked working as an illustrator, though that may have more to do with the pleasant company than the actual work." You winked and he smiled weakly up at you, his own fingers drumming lightly on your knees. "I want a dog, and a nice house. Small one, with good lighting. Mostly though, I want to wake up next to you in the mornings. I want to draw you more."

You weren't sure if you would ever get used to how his gratitude struck you in your chest. It made his whole expression light up, blond patch bright like his own personal sunspot. For a man who was so brazenly cocksure, Ezra didn't seem to believe he was worth overmuch in anyone's eyes. 

"You have not yet been afforded the opportunity to grow weary of me, it appears," He remarked, "though we have endured each other's company for six stands and counting."

"Over half a year." You could barely believe it yourself. "So, I've told you what I'd like. And what would _you_ ask of life, mister big shot author man?" You teased. 

Ezra's smile faded. "I would ask _many_ things of life, though I have only one thing to ask of _you_ ." He rasped. "Accompany me in it." His hands folded over your own on his chest and you could _feel_ him shaking. "I will not request you to stay any longer than you wish to, but I beg of you to...to be with me. For a moment, a stand...h-however long you can endure waking up beside me." He soldiered on admirably through his voice breaking, "I do not offer much, as you are aware. But I would like to believe that I could make you happy, at least for a time."

"Ezra, are you-" you swallowed hard. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"I suppose that would depend on whether you are inclined to believe that I am asking you to...in less blatant terms, _engage_ with myself in somethin' that may eventually, _potentially_ , smack of the matrimonial persuasion." He was watching you closely, fragile hope shining through the serious, furrowed frown on his face. 

"You're serious." You stated weakly. He nodded once, a singular jerk of his head. "You...you're _sure?_ "

"Abysmally certain." Ezra replied gruffly. "And I do not require an answer. Not now, not _ever_ if you do not wish to reply, I merely-" 

Your mouth on his own put a stop to his amendments, and you felt his lips twitch into a smile when you breathed, " _yes_."

"Well!" He exclaimed gladly, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you. "I must say this--this particular outcome, while _exceedingly_ welcome, was _not_ anticipated!" 

"You've _got_ to be kidding me." You groaned, shoving your hands into his hair to tug his face away from your own. "I'm gonna' do my level best to be patient with you, but _fuck's_ sake Ezra." He grinned puckishly at you, his expression promising mischief. "I'll work on me if you work on you, okay? A little faith in yourself can go a long way, believe me." You lectured him sternly. 

"To think that _you_ would be able to say such a thing to me." He commented dryly, making you snicker. "How the bastards have fallen, and now the gentle rule the earth as docile kings." Large hands combed carefully through your hair and he tilted your head for another kiss. "A dog, hmm?" You nodded wildly, making him chuckle into your mouth when your nose bumped his own. "I'll see what I can do, gentle soul."

… **_Three Years Later_ **...

"Ezra!" You called, brow furrowing in confusion when there was no reply. "Ezra? Anglio? It's time for lunch!" You wiped your hands off on the flour sack towel that you had wound through your belt loop, trying to straighten your shirt out as an afterthought. "Ezra!" You called again, a little more concerned now as you moved from the kitchen to the screened-in porch, peering out through the jalousie window slats to survey the front yard. 

Turk, your massive Himalayan tomcat, wrapped himself around your ankles with a throaty, inquisitive burble. 

No sign of the dynamic duo. You sighed, petting Turk and resigning yourself to hunting them down after finishing your sixth well-meaning attempt at making bread. Maybe you were being too optimistic, expecting the dough to cooperate in this heat. 

The first loaf actually looked good, though! That had bolstered your confidence, which had in turn dug you into a glutinous _hole_ . Any variation you tried on the original successful recipe resulted in nothing but _failure_. At least you had an overabundance of aggressively-crispy croutons and bread crumbs now? 

_Oh well, sixth time's the charm. So much for my attempt at a subtle pun._

After placing the tray in the oven, you headed outside to the front steps. Turk sauntered out alongside you, yawning and then sprawling on the steps. "Boys!" You shouted, smiling in relief when you heard a distant reply from the forest. "Lunch time!"

There was a _crash_ and Anglio emerged from the trees, the small mutt baying excitedly to indicate that he was being pursued. You wondered (not for the first time) if Mr. Anglio knew about Dog Anglio. Ezra strode along behind the pup, laughing when the dog play-bowed and barked at him. "You _wretched_ beast, leadin' me o’er hill and dale like a damn huntin' thoroughbred!" He growled good-naturedly, rubbing the dog's proffered belly. 

You smiled a little mistily at the scene, your heart skipping in your chest. 

Escaping the city had been the best choice that you and Ezra had made in your life together thus far. The house you had found, while small, sat on a sprawling, untamed estate that you had fallen in love with instantly. 

Anglio and Turk (formerly known as Foxy and Turducken) were acquired soon after from the shelter of the 'nearby' supply depot. You hadn't actually been _looking_ for a cat, but the stately feline would not take no for an answer. Plus, Ezra had looked so _torn_ as he buried his face in the stoic animal's side right before he had attempted to return him to his cage.

" _You want a cat too? It's not like we can't take care of it_." You had reasoned with a shrug, already fawning over the little orangey-brown mutt in your arms. Ezra had lit up, nodding firmly.

The cozy, domestic solitude stirred creativity in yourself and the man you shared your life with, culminating in a small collection of illustrated short stories that had, once again, done surprisingly well on the market. Ezra said he wanted to try writing children's books next, laughing when he announced it as if he was joking. His offhand remark had rekindled something in your belly: the warm, soft embers of a bonfire you had assumed long extinguished and buried. _Children’s books_...

The memories faded as Ezra traipsed up the steps, the last vestiges of spring mud coating his boots. "Ah, my beloved co-conspirator!" He announced dramatically, spreading his arms wide. "How I have missed you whilst engaging in a daring foray into the untamed wilderness!"

"Yes yes, Robinson Crusoe, we're so blessed by your survival skills and ability to create fire." You deadpanned, laughing when he caught you in his grasp and attempted to smother you with kisses. "Oh no, help me Anglio!" You cried in feigned distress, the dog prancing around your legs and yipping in reply. Turk meowed sleepily at all the commotion, putting his head back down after a moment.

"Such harsh barbs from my doting wife!" Ezra teased, rubbing his forehead against your own. "Have you been baking again, gentle soul?" He asked, sweeping a dusting of flour off of your cheek. 

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest as you grabbed his hand and hauled him inside the porch, into the kitchen. "I h-have buns in the oven!" You choked out in a rush when he paused to kick off his boots by the door, unable to wait another second. 

"Wonderful! I am ravenous and…" Ezra trailed off as he straightened up and obviously caught sight of the expression on your face. You could only assume you looked a mixture of terrified and hopeful. It was certainly how you _felt_ , at any rate. His brow furrowed suspiciously. "Wait."

"Well, uh, that is, there's multiple buns in the _actual_ oven, b-but according to the doctor-" You held your hands out, the stance a strange echo of when he had been across from you in the pod all those years ago. "The doctor says j-just one. Healthy! One healthy, um, bun. In my oven." You squeaked. 

Ezra stared at you like he had never seen you before. He finally rasped, "how long?"

"How long what? How long have I known?" He nodded mutely. "Late last night. I had them scan during my routine checkup. I...I wanted to be sure." Your voice petered out as you spoke until you were essentially whispering. Uncertainty gripped your body; was he upset about this? Had you misread the situation? Oh _Kevva_ , what if he didn’t want you now?

Ezra reached for one of the kitchen chairs, clumsily sinking into it. He didn't speak, he just sat there with his head in his hands.

You fidgeted with your towel, tears threatening to spill over as the silence lengthened. "Ezra, is...is this not okay?" You queried softly. 

His shoulders jerked when the timer for the oven went off, but other than that he gave no sign that he had heard anything. You turned your back to him and slipped on your oven mitts, moving almost mechanically to rescue the buns before they too were suited for nothing but croutons. You then shut off the oven and opened the drawer beside the sink, digging blindly for the spatula--

Ezra caught you up around the waist, crushing you to his chest so tightly it felt like all the breath left your body. "A _baby!_ " He boomed, half-laughing as he spoke. "I am _exuberant_ , over the fucking _moon!_ How long do we have, when will they arrive?! I cannot believe this, I just--gentle soul, the _serendipity_ that you have blessed my life with!" He exclaimed warmly, cupping your face and kissing you breathless.

"I take it you’re open to the idea, then?" You gasped out, feeling his thumbs wiping away the tears that had managed to escape. 

"Gentle soul, I...you are a _miracle_ incarnate." Ezra's voice had taken on a tone of heated awe. "Your generous body, accepting my love in such a wondrous new way. I am _truly_ a lucky man. A...I love you so _very_ much." He murmured, his next hungry kiss chasing away all your lingering trepidation. "So, so very much, so much...an _insurmountable_ amount." His hands grasped at your belt loops, tugging your hips in to slot against his own. "To think that when I laid with you during our anniversary, it would bear such precious fruit." He muttered. You felt his cock stirring through his jeans.

"E-Ezra, lunch…" you protested weakly. You still had your oven mitts on, your hands curled into loose fists resting on his chest.

"I will eat it _later_ ." He promised, his dark eyes wholly sincere even as his fingers worked at the buttons of your light blouse. "Once I have properly displayed the depth of my... _appreciation_." 

...

"You _alone_ coax me into such promiscuity, I hope you are aware." Ezra grunted, burying his face in your hair. 

You whimpered down into the bedspread, the thumb that insistently dragged over your clit making your eyes roll back in your head. The blankets were still crisp and fresh from being hung out on the line, the sweet scent of summer sunlight and _Ezra_ dominating your senses.

"You alone, and the notion that you are heavy with our child does not dull the edge in the slightest." He continued breathlessly from his position overhead, grinding his cock into you as deep as it could go and refusing to withdraw. "You feel _incredible_ around me, gentle soul, fucking _exquisite_." 

His hips crushed to your rear and you rutted your body up onto your hands and knees, meeting him with the soft _slap_ of heated, sweat-drenched skin. "Ezra, please-" you begged, making him hum. "Please, I want to come, _please_ …" 

"Gentle soul, gentle soul," He gasped, "if you keep rocking back against me in that manner, I'll have no recourse but to give you what you ask for." The former prospector seized your arms, dragging you fully upright on your knees. He quickly released you, his wandering hands returning after a moment to rest on your stomach. "Your sensuous form stirs such _lascivious_ thoughts in me." He breathed in your ear, smiling against your neck when you keened out. 

"Love you-" you gasped, and Ezra's fingers gripped your hips tightly. 

"I know you do." He assured, his words gone soft enough to ache, burrow their way into your ribcage and wrap around your heart. "Now come for me." He held himself still and you pushed yourself back against his cock, the methodical sway of your hips finally beckoning you over your edge. You cried out and Ezra caged in your throat with large fingers, the man feeling the vibrations of your enthusiastic climax with a low moan of his own. "How _deliciously_ improbable," his voice grated, "that your sweet little cunt could manage to grip me even tighter than before-!"

"Fill me up, Ezra, come in me, come in me-" you pleaded, sagging back against him. The brilliant Mallen streak flickered into your field of view as the man behind you dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, his hips rolling and bucking furiously. You could feel him panting, hot breath washing over your back as your shaking fingers twined greedily into his hair. 

"What my Eve demands, what--what my gentle soul entreats, I have no choice but to oblige." He rasped out. "I am shattered, rendered _insensate_ by the radiant splendor of this copulation in our private Eden." He mouthed shakily over your shoulder, finally biting down with a grunt as he came _hard_. You crooned quietly to him while he spent himself inside you and he groaned in reply, making you laugh. "You truly are a delight to behold, gentle soul." He sighed hoarsely, wrapping his arms around your midsection and cradling you close to his trembling body.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, a dopey smile rising on your face when his stomach _loudly_ reiterated the fact that he had ignored lunch in favor of other, far more _distracting_ activities. Ezra grimaced awkwardly. "Work up an appetite?" You teased, kissing the end of his nose and then the exaggerated scrunch of his brows.

"I may have gotten... _sidetracked_ ." He admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. "You can hardly judge me for that _particular_ shortcoming, gentle soul." His warm palm splayed possessively on your stomach and he hummed low in his throat, the sound obviously one of contentment. "Our child."

"Ours." You echoed in agreement. 

"I hope that I...no, I left such trepidation behind long ago. I _am_ a better man. For you, for us. And now, for them." Ezra said firmly, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Now, show me the result of your baking. I admit freely to bias, of course; I welcome any and all culinary attempts with open arms, as though they were gifts from the illustrious and powerful Waldorf-Astoria itself."

You squinted. "The _what?_ Listen, I'm used to you being _vaguely_ comprehensible at best, but even I have no idea what the words that just came out of your mouth were."

His reply was simply unrestrained, delighted laughter, his nose pressing into your cheek while he showered your face with even more playful kisses.

_In my dreams you come to me, as timid and inexorable as the dawn...in my sleepless hours you find me, tremulous and waning like the starlight. For I am a lost man who wanders bright and dark, all for the fleeting glimpse of you...all for the touch of your mouth on mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and enjoying, my friends! Thank you for your kind support of my endeavors. I hope that this story has managed to bring you some peace, or at the very least function as an interesting distraction from the issues we currently slog through like so much Bakhroma Green dust. Stay safe out there, be well and be kind.


	11. Bonus: Baby Headcanons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received an ask on Tumblr about what Ezra would be like during the birthing process! Please enjoy this little extra blurb.
> 
> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains depictions of childbirth. Stay safe!]

He's read every book. Every scrap of media he can get his hands on, really, his sessions lasting long into the night until his eyes have that gritty feeling from staring at a screen for too long.

It doesn't matter. 

When your water breaks, he's gripped  _ exclusively _ by a panicky instinct.  _ Call the doctor? _ Of course, the number is on the cooler.  _ Hospital? _ Yes, hospital.  _ Transport? _ He has to. He has to.

His hand stays on your thigh during the transport, he helps you to count, tries to keep you calm but he feels like he's not getting enough  _ air _ . What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to you?

Ezra knows he shouldn't think that, and he's  _ definitely _ not about to voice such fears to you. You're in  _ pain _ , you're wounded and it's terrible, it's like Inumon all over again but you're not stifling your noises this time and he can't  _ fix this _ . 

At some point during the hour-long drive, he realizes that he  _ can't _ fall apart on you. He feels his heart rate calm, feels his back straighten. He's done things in his life that, in theory, have been leaps and  _ bounds _ more dangerous than this. He doesn't have the luxury.

You're relying on him. 

" _ Breathe for me, gentle soul, I know it hurts _ ." Half-catering, half-commanding, he  _ won't _ let this go south. " _ I'm right here with you _ ." 

After his realization it's a little easier. He's still in a dither, but he knows he'll manage it. He has to. You need him. You loved him enough to accept this burden and now  _ he _ will move heaven and earth to make certain that this particular endeavor goes as creamy as humanly possible. 

…

They at least let him be in the delivery room. Even if it is  _ agony _ to witness before you're mercifully numbed with the cocktail slurry spooned into your mouth via the Pastors and the intravenous medication, he knows that whatever he's feeling is  _ nothing _ compared to your own pain. You're moaning weakly, your muscles quivering from the prolonged toil of preparation and  _ Kevva _ , Ezra aches to wrap you up in his arms, rock you through your contractions. He almost wishes he  _ hadn't _ read so damn much about it all, because ignorance is bliss and he can't take the pain you're enduring away from you even  _ with _ all his accursed reading. 

All he can do is stroke your forehead, hold your hand, obligatory nitrile gloves squeaking from the feverish sweat on your skin. " _ I'll see you soon, with a new little one. _ " He promises you softly, " _ I love you so  _ **_very_ ** _ much. You've done so well. Rest now, gentle soul _ ."

It's like strapping you into the pod that fateful night, the way your eyelids flutter closed. You're obviously exhausted, murmuring out some nonsense words to him before you entirely slip under the medication.

Ezra is not particularly squeamish about blood. His own or another's, it matters precious little. It's a bodily fluid, a necessary thing. He braces himself like he's skinning pearls all over again so that he doesn’t flinch, stays at your head and just walks you through the whole endeavor with soft, needlessly complex terminology. He knows you can't actually hear him, he knows you're thoroughly  _ snowed _ and it's honestly a relief, because he can only imagine how hard you would fight to make him feel like  _ you _ were fine. 

He doesn't expect the baby to be so damn  _ red _ , despite all the pictures he's seen. Angry and small and  _ violently _ red, tiny mouth slung agape in a garbled cry of fury.  _ I'm here and I'm immensely dissatisfied with this current arrangement! _ , they seem to announce. 

Ezra feels his mouth twitch into an impossibly wide,  _ incredulous _ smile. " _ They're beautiful _ ." He says it aloud, even though you can't hear him and you won't remember. 

Airways suctioned clear, body dried, thick,  _ wild _ dark hair sticking up from their head in spikes and…

And there is a spot. 

The nurse angles the child towards him and Ezra's breath seizes and he is  _ weeping _ , almost blind with tears. The baby has a single blond tuft of hair at the crown of their delicate head, just to the side of their perfect little cowlick. A sunspot, like his own. A Mallen streak.

" _ Gentle soul, they are...they are  _ **_immaculate_ ** _. You've done so well _ ." He praises you, certain that the nurse will have an absolute  _ field day _ when she recounts this tale to her coworkers later. But he doesn't care. 

He assists in resituating your gown so the baby can nurse while resting on your chest. He wants your skin to be the first thing they know in this world, your scent, your taste. His fingers shake when they graze the cap that the nurse has placed on the baby's head.

The little one is  _ voracious _ and it makes him cry all over again, laughing through his tears when the doctor claps him on the shoulder and hands him a small packet of tissues. 

" _ Congratulations. Welcome to the Sacred Hour _ ." The other man says warmly. Ezra wants to hug him but he's relatively certain that would be a breach of some sort of sanitation protocol. 

…

It's strange. Different and yet, not. Honestly, the hardest part of it all might be just  _ leaving you alone _ . Ezra wants to help and he knows he's probably being annoying or clingy, but the grateful way you look at him when he manages to soothe the child into slumber with some rambling rhetoric about screamer-class ships never fails to make his heart leap. 

He still does his best not to hover too badly, only offering to take over if he feels that you want him to. While many fathers of past years seemed more than content to let their wives handle the child-rearing, he is determined to avoid such a grievous error. These early days are all about proper distribution of manpower, food and sleep, and while the little one ensures that neither you nor he get much in the sleep department, Ezra is far too happy that you're both  _ healthy _ to care.

The odd hours remind him a bit of being on a dig once more and he finds himself falling into old habits. Once, at three o'clock in the morning, you catch him in the kitchen absently pulling tiny pieces off of a banana like it's a bits ration bar while the baby sleeps and drools on his bare chest. You barely stifle your laughter in time and Ezra nearly chokes, but the two of you agree that maybe,  _ maybe _ you would be a little more sane once the child's sleep schedule evened out.

Anglio is a bit miffed over the displacement that occurs, the shifting in his proverbial hierarchy, but Ezra is confident that after a few discussions they will come to an understanding. Turk is, naturally, unbothered about the whole scenario. 

Life is not perfect, but after everything Ezra has endured, it hardly needs to be for him to feel content.  _ And _ he's got a backlog of freshly-printed children's books to work through.


End file.
